


Spellbound

by brittishmenorbust



Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, House of Mystery, Justice League Dark - Freeform, Magic, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, constantine needs a hug, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-07-07 11:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: When you get free tickets to see The Great Zatanna, you're thrilled. When it turns out that her magic doesn't work on you, things take a turn. Even her friend John Constantine can't get magic to work on you. It's as if you're immune. Clearly something is going on, and Constantine and his friends won't rest until they find out what.Bonding and fun in the house of mystery ensue, as you and Constantine grow closer. But will forces greater than yourselves tear you apart?





	1. Chapter 1

You were on your phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, when your roommate Kevin came in the front door looking curiously at the mail. His brows were furrowed as he chose one letter out of the small pile in his hand and looked from the letter to you. 

“What?” you asked, laughing at his confusion with the mail. “IRS after you already?”

“No,” he smirked, pulling out what looked like tickets from the envelope. “Someone sent us tickets.”

“To what?” you asked, putting down your phone and sitting up.

“A magic show,” he said, puzzled. “Zatanna.”

“Zatanna?” you gasped. “She’s like Vegas level magic. How the fuck did you swing that?”

“Must have entered some kind of contest at one of the bar trivia nights,” he shrugged. “Whiskey’s basically a magic eraser for my memory.”

“Sweet,” you smiled. “You gonna take Chad?”

“Nah, he’s got work every night this week, and these tickets are for tomorrow night. Looks like you’re up.”

“Ooooh date night,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, don’t tell my boyfriend though, he’d absolutely die if he knew he was missing this.”

“Cross my heart,” you promised.

“Then it’s a date,” he smiled.

He soon left for work, leaving you alone in the apartment. Something about the tickets seemed strange to you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You wondered what bar around here would be able to afford tickets to the hottest magic show in the world as a prize. Still, even if they were just sent to you by mistake, you weren’t about to turn them in. You’d wanted to see The Great Zatanna since she first appeared on the scene. You hadn’t been the biggest fan of magic, but something about her seemed authentic somehow. Not that you thought she was really a sorceress, that was ridiculous, but as close as you could get, you guessed, that’s what she was.

You spent the day working from home as you usually did, and spent the night with Kevin when he got back, watching trashy television and having a few drinks. The following day was a Saturday, and you watched the clock waiting for the late hour that you could leave for Zatanna’s show.

Kevin was excited too, but not nearly on your level. You weren’t disappointed when you got there either. You were second row, right in the middle. You’d dressed to the nines in your favorite black dress and black tights. You’d considered fishnets in honor of your favorite magician, but thought otherwise at the last minute.

You waited for the curtain to rise with agonizing anticipation. When it finally did, the show did not disappoint. She was everything you wanted her to be. It was like watching pure magic, there was no other way to describe it. It didn't feel like you were being tricked, although you were sure you were, it felt like she was truly doing the things she claimed to be. 

When it came to the audience participation part of her show, she stood at the edge of her stage, black heels clacking just a few feet in front of you, pacing back and forth as she glanced over the audience.

“I just need a hand for this one,” she beamed. “Anyone want to help me?”

Everyone raised their hands, including you. You stretched up, hoping your hand might raise just a hair higher than everyone else’s, that she might notice you. 

To your utter astonishment, she did. 

You felt a light on you, turned from somewhere high above you. 

“You!” she exclaimed, and it was only a push from Kevin that made you realize you weren’t imagining it.

You felt your limbs go numb with excitement, but you managed to make your way to the stage. You followed a stage manager up a small set of stairs and walked over to Zatanna. She was even more beautiful up close, her eyes wide, her smile bright. She led you over to the box she had opened just before asking for a volunteer.

“Now, can you confirm this is just an ordinary box?” she asked you.

You were still in a haze of disbelief that you were even on this stage with her, but you looked at the box, letting your hand guide itself over the wood. It seemed solid enough to you. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“Would you step inside please?” she asked. 

You did as you were asked, standing inside the box. 

“Now, I’ll close the door,” she said. 

Once the door was closed, you were in darkness. You couldn’t hear anything outside until a few moments had passed and the door opened again. You expected to come out to a cheering crowd, but instead, Zatanna opened the door, and looked at you in disbelief. 

“You’re still here,” she murmured. Stepping aside slightly, she said to the crowd, “She's a tricky one, going to have to use some extra magic this time.”

She gave you a concerned look, one you weren’t sure you’d ever seen her make to a crowd, and she closed the door again. This time, as soon as the door closed, you started falling. You wanted to shriek but by the time your vocal chords could react to the feeling of weightlessness, you had landed. Feeling the cushion underneath you, you were surprised. A trap door made sense, you guessed. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting to be honest. You heard the crowd roaring above you, and you were sure she’d swung the trick to be something bigger than you just disappearing from a box. You were almost mad you’d missed it. Still, seeing the inner workings was kind of cool, even if it was just a trap door. You wondered if you’d have to sign a release form to not tell anyone what her secret was. 

Before you could even get off the fall cushion, you heard clacking heels coming towards you. Zatanna stepped into your frame of view with an expression you did not expect. Her brows were furrowed and she was gnawing on her lower lip. 

“What are you?” she asked hesitantly.

You laughed, sliding off the cushion and standing a few feet in front of her. She took a step back as if wary of you. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

She seemed to steel herself as if you were an enemy. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked. “Did I ruin your trick?”

You’d followed instructions, you were sure. How did that ruin it for her?

“My magic doesn’t work on you,” she said softly. “Why?”

“I fell through the trap door,” you motioned above you. “Isn’t that the magic trick?”

She looked at you as if you were an alien. 

“Hturt eht em llet,” she said. 

You blinked, unsure what she had just spoken. Was that another language? You shook your head, wondering if the fall had done something to your understanding of this situation.

“Look, Miss Zatanna, I don’t know what you want from me. I just got tickets to your show and came to see you. Loved it, by the way,” you laughed awkwardly. “So, I think I’ll just go now?”

She blinked and looked horrified. 

“Ecnad a od,” she said at you. 

“What?” you asked. 

She looked utterly horrified, and took a step back from you. 

“Why doesn’t it work?” she asked. 

“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” you said, now more confused than before.

“Wait here,” she said. She took a step back and took a breath. “NamdaeD dna enitnatsnoC nhoJ nommus I,” she said, eyes closed and head tilted upwards.

There was a wind that came out of nowhere, and you felt a strange stirring around you.

Suddenly, two men appeared from nowhere. You wondered if this was a part of winning the tickets, some kind of weird, exclusive show.

As the air settled, you took in the two people that had appeared before you. One looked like a normal male, wearing trench coat that was covering a white shirt with a loose red tie, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while the other looked less like a normal male. If you’d ever seen a ghost, this was it. You swore you could see through this person. He seemed to be wearing some kind of weird onesie with a big D imprinted on it. He floated a little, and you thought maybe you’d hit your head on something on the way down and you were dreaming this whole thing.

“What the fuck Zee, I was just about to talk a nice lad into bed,” the man in the white shirt said to Zatanna. He seemed to have a thick British accent. 

“Zatanna,” the ghost said. “Not like I’m not glad to see you, but a little warning would be nice.”

“Boys,” she commanded, in a tone not unlike a mother’s. “I have a problem.”

She turned to you, and the men’s attention shifted. 

“Ah, I see, you have this bird, and you don’t know how to please her,” the opaque man said. “I can take care of that for you.” He winked at her and turned to you, looking you up and down and wetting his lower lip. 

She stepped between you and him and put her hand on his chest. 

“No, Constantine,” she said authoritatively. He faltered, taking in the slightly frightened tone of hers.

“What is it, doll?” the ghost asked. 

“I can’t… my magic doesn’t work on her,” she said.

You finally found your legs to be in working order and took a step towards them. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m really supposed to be here. I just got tickets in the mail, and I’m sorry if I messed up your trick or whatever, but I’ll just go…”

“No,” Zatanna said, and you stopped. She turned to the man she’d called Constantine. “Nothing works. I had to use my backup trap door.”

“You want us to try stuff out? See if it’s just you?” Constantine guessed. 

“If you could,” she said.

“Try stuff out?” you asked. “What’s going on?”

“Volabo in aere,” Constantine said, motioning in a strange way with his hands towards you. 

You frowned, wondering why these people seemed to all speak non-familiar languages.

Constantine’s face looked equal to Zatanna’s in amazement and defeat. 

“Deadman, try to possess her,” Zatanna directed. 

“Woah what?” you asked, but the ghost was already doing whatever the equivalent to sprinting was for a ghost, right at you. 

You expected to feel something, but when he came close enough to have touched you, you felt nothing. Turning, you saw that he was on the other side of you, looking down at his ghostly form in shock. 

“What the flying fuck,” he muttered. 

“I could ask all of you the same question,” you said, running your hands through your hair nervously. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“We’ve got to get her to the house,” Zatanna said. “We can’t have her just out here in the world.”

“What house?” you asked, hearing the hysterics in your voice. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Just stay for a moment, luv, please,” Constantine said, taking a step towards you. “I’m sorry, I know this is all a lot. Here,” he said, rummaging around in his coat pocket until he found a flask. “Have a drink, it’ll help.”

You eyed him warily, and didn’t touch it. 

“Ah bugger,” he muttered. He took a long swig. “It’s fine, just whiskey.”

You couldn’t deny you wanted a drink right now. He seemed fine, so you didn’t think it was drugged or anything. You took the flask from him and took a sip. 

As soon as you had, you realized your mistake. You passed out on the crash mat almost immediately.

***

You opened your eyes slowly and groggily. Had you and Kevin had too much to drink last night? Where even were you?

It came back in fragments. You had gone to a show. Zatanna’s show. But something had gone wrong.

“She’s up,” a voice said nearby.

You looked around to see the man you remembered as Constantine. He was staring at you as two others entered the room. What room was it? 

“What’s going on?” you asked. 

“We could ask you the same question, luv,” Constantine said. He looked angry, though you couldn’t imagine why, as you were the one who had the high ground in this room.

Zatanna stood by the doorframe and the ghost man floated through. Had they really called him Deadman?

“Why doesn’t any of our magic work on you?” Zatanna asked. “Some kind of enchantment? A blessing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmured, your head still spinning.

It looked like you were in some kind of old house. From the looks of it, you were in a library of sorts. You looked out one of the windows, and your heart caught in your chest. There wasn’t… anything outside it. Literally nothing. It wasn’t night, it wasn’t day… it was something else. If you didn't know any better, you’d have said you were in space.

“Zee, I don’t think she knows anything,” Deadman said, watching you carefully. 

“Or she’s a good actress,” Constantine muttered. He narrowed his eyes at you, and you could feel them burning into your skin, trying to burrow under it to see what you were made of.

“Hey, I couldn’t get higher than a C- on my acting final in college,” you offered. “They said my monologue lacked conviction. Wait why the hell am I defending myself to you? And where the fuck are we? Space?”

Zatanna pursed her lips and considered you for a moment.

“Not quite,” she answered. “I’m sorry if this is frightening to you, but we just don’t understand you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you muttered. “Magic is real.”

“It is,” Constantine said condescendingly. “Surely Casper here is proof enough of the supernatural, let alone what Zee can do.”

The ghost looked at him with contempt but said nothing. You hadn’t seen what Constantine could do, but you were sure by the way he had moved and spoken that his powers were not to be trifled with. Now that you knew Zatanna’s magic act wasn’t actually an act, you had some idea of her powers. What kind of magic did the blonde brit practice, you wondered.

“So what you’re saying is your magic doesn’t work on me? Why?” you asked.

“We’d love to know that fact, darlin’,” Deadman said. “Got any theories?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’m just a normal girl.” 

Zatanna frowned.

“Hey, what happened to the guy I was with?” you asked. 

“Oh I gave him a few more free tickets and told him you’d been given an exclusive tour backstage,” Zatanna dismissed. “He thinks you got the VIP treatment and crashed somewhere else.”

You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. You were here with your idol and two apparently powerful beings who thought you were either special or that something was wrong with you, in a house in some liminal space. 

“I’m going to go put some feelers out,” Zatanna decided. “See if anyone in the community has heard of anything like this.”

“I’ll do the same,” Deadman offered.

Constantine waited, watching you with serious intent. You weren’t sure you liked it. It felt like he was staring at you like a scientist might look at a lab rat.   
“I’ll stay here and watch her,” he offered. “I’m not convinced there’s a spell that she can’t deflect.”

Your stomach dropped. You did not like the idea of being alone in a room with this man. Zatanna had at least showed you pity, and some kindness, but not him. 

“Suit yourself,” Zatanna shrugged. “My magic tells me she’s basically impenetrable. But just don’t kill her in the process, eh?”

She shot him a look you couldn’t read. Was it flirtatious or serious? You wanted to yell for the two of them to wait because the look that Constantine was giving you was really starting to freak you out, but they left quicker than you could gather your nerve.

You tucked your knees into your chest and pressed your back against the wall of the bench they’d laid you on.

“Could you not do that?” you asked, barely making eye contact with the blonde. 

“Do what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Eye me like some kind of science experiment?”

He laughed hollowly and shook his head. 

“I’ve never met someone like you. I’ve met people who have mimicked your deflection abilities of course. There are amulets, enchantments, but none that last more than a few spells. And we tried more than a few spells while you were out.” 

“Speaking of which, you drugged me,” you recalled. “I thought you drank first.”

“Magic works on me, pet,” he smirked as he lit a cigarette. “I’m protected from the drugs in there.”

“So you just carry around shit to knock people out?” you asked. 

“Does come in handy,” he gestured to you. He watched you closely. “You’re sure you’re new to all this? Magic and everything.”

“This is all new to me,” you assured him. “The only encounters I’ve had with magic were with erasers and David Copperfield.”

“Who?” Constantine asked. “No, take it back, I don’t care. Listen, if you’re lying to us, trying to manipulate us…” his eyes were turning dark, and you felt yourself shrinking, trying to get away from him.

“No,” you promised. “I swear, I would never. We just won tickets, and I wanted to see her.”

“Won tickets from what?” he asked.   
“I don’t know, a bar or something. Kevin won them.”

“That your boyfriend then?” he asked. 

“Roommate,” you said, unsure why it mattered.

He considered this, but said nothing. 

“And you’ve never sought out a psychic, or a shaman or a mystic, or anything of the kind?” he asked after a moment.

“No,” you said. 

He studied you carefully, and in that moment, you had time to assess him. You hadn’t really had a chance to look at him yet, but now that you did, you found he was quite handsome. Not that he would ever describe himself that way, you assumed, but he must have known he was. That devil-may-care aesthetic was certainly working for him, and if it weren’t the very obvious danger lurking in those dark eyes, you might have been attracted to him.

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together and standing up, snapping you out of your reverie. “Best get started then.”

“Started?” you asked. 

He snickered for a moment and nodded. 

“I’m about to throw every spell in the book at you until something sticks.”


	2. Chapter 2

At first it was terrifying. Constantine had started muttering words in dead languages, flipping all sorts of color and light energy at you with his hands, even breaking out a few ancient artifacts at one point. But after the first hour, it got kind of boring. It probably shouldn’t have been, because this crazy blonde man kept looking and sounding like he was definitely going to kill you, but in the end, you just wound up playing a game on your phone while he tired himself out. You didn’t have a signal here, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do some sudoku.

After a while, when you didn’t hear any more chanting, you looked up from your phone. Constantine was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting. His cheeks were red, and he looked exhausted.

“Satisfied?” you asked. “I think Zatanna was right.”

“Bloody hate it when that happens,” he muttered, managing to stand upright for a second before almost falling on top of you.

He muttered an apology as he rolled over to sit next to you on the bench. You looked at him with a little pity. He’d tried so hard. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged. 

He laughed mirthlessly and looked at you out of the side of his eye.

“What are you?” he asked, more to himself than to you. 

“Dunno,” you laughed. “Maybe I’m an android programmed to think she’s a girl.”

“Androids still respond to magic, luv.”

“Well, that’s my guess trashed.”

You bit your lip as you looked at him. This quiet moment made all your questions bubble to the surface.

“So do you guys live here?” you asked. 

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, moving to lie down on the bench, head near you, and knees bent to fit. “Won the house in a game, it’s more like a safe haven than a permanent residence for most of us.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Who bets a house?”

“A drunk,” he smiled with his eyes still closed.

“So what’s your story, then? Gambler?”

He opened an eye and squinted up at you. 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well you just spent the last two hours basically trying to kill me, I thought I might be privy to some information.”

He snickered and closed his eyes again. 

“Con man, mage, you name it, I’ve probably been it.”

“How long have you been at it?”

“Long enough.”

“You like being mysterious?” you asked with a smirk. He glanced up at you. 

“Seems to work pretty well for me,” he said suggestively. 

“I bet you’re not so mysterious.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sitting up with some effort. “What makes you say that?”

“Because people are all pretty much the same,” you shrugged. “We all want things, and are willing to do certain things to get them.”

“And what is it that I want?” Constantine asked, his eyes dipping down to your lips. 

You seemed to be leaning in closer for a moment before the doors to the library opened swiftly. Both of your attentions were pulled away from each other to the two women at the entrance. One was Zatanna. She was standing slightly behind the commanding presence of another woman. This woman was phenomenally beautiful, and you were starting to wonder if that was a requirement to be in this club they had here. She seemed to radiate youth and mystery. She was dressed in loose, almost robe like clothes and had more jewelry on than you’d ever seen anyone wear. Her eyes were pinned to you as she walked across the room.

“Xanadu,” Constantine nodded. “This what your feelers dug up then?” he asked, turning his attention to Zatanna.

“She sought my council, John Constantine, and I am here as a favor. Don’t make me regret it.”

Surprisingly, Constantine didn’t say anything more. Xanadu knelt in front of you and smiled softly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“My child,” she said, and you had a feeling she said that to a lot of people. “Give me your hand, please.”

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked, cautious of this newcomer. 

“She’s a psychic,” Zatanna explained. “She’s not going to try to hurl any magic at you.”

You tentatively placed your hands into Xanadu’s and waited for something to happen. The woman closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating very hard. After a few moments of you awkwardly glancing around the room, waiting, she opened her eyes and stood. She eyed you with the same wariness the rest of the group had. 

“I cannot see anything,” she shook her head. Thinking for a moment, she turned to Constantine. “Give me your hand. Perhaps now that your fates are brought together, I can see her through yours.”

She held Constantine’s hands in hers and closed her eyes. She seemed to be squinting, as if trying to see better with her eyes closed. She pulled away with a disappointed frown.

“It’s like looking at something underwater from five feet away,” she said. “I can see her, and she is with you,” she said to Constantine. “But I can’t see what you’re doing. All I feel is… warmth.”

“Could be worse,” Zatanna pointed out. 

“There's no way her being immune to magic leads to warmth,” Constantine scoffed.

“Try me,” Zatanna offered. Xanadu repeated the process. 

“Not as warm,” she admitted. “But friendly, though tinged with something around the edges, like envy.”

Zatanna looked confused, but said nothing. 

“Thanks for trying, luv,” Constantine offered to Xanadu. 

“I do not think the girl harbors any ill will to any of you,” she said. “From the vague feelings I could get surrounding your futures, I believe she will become vital to you.” She turned to Constantine. “Especially to you.”

You glanced quickly at Constantine to see what his expression was, but it was flat and unreadable. 

“Well, like you said, you don’t really know,” Constantine dismissed. 

It felt strange that he wouldn’t believe her, that it seemed like a physical impossibility that you could bring them anything more than pain. Specifically him.

“Be sure to let me know how it goes,” she said. “I will keep an eye out for you all, as always.”

“Thank you,” Zatanna smiled distractedly at her. 

Xanadu made her exit with a lingering glance at you and Constantine before leaving the room and presumably the house. 

“What now?” Zatanna asked. “She was my only real lead. Maybe Deadman’s having better luck.”

“Nope,” came a voice as Deadman’s image quickly followed. You jumped a little at the disembodied voice. “Sorry darlin’,” he laughed. “I got nothing from my end. No one’s seen or heard anything. Even Swamp Thing.”

“Bugger,” Constantine muttered. “I have one more ritual I could try, but it’s really involved.”

“What is it?” Zatanna asked.

Constantine grimaced. 

“It’s an ancient Mayan ritual used to strip someone of any and all defenses they have, magical or otherwise. It’s intense and involves hard to get magical artifacts. But if there’s any kind of enchantment or blessing from anything less than a celestial being on her, it’ll wash it off.”

“I’ll get the stuff,” Zatanna promised. “Just tell me what you need.”

“I better come with you,” Constantine offered.

“No. I want you to stay with her. I’ll take Deadman for backup. My gut says someone’s looking for her, and if they find her here somehow, I don’t want to leave the house unprotected. You have the strongest link to the house, you’re the best choice to defend her.”

Constantine sighed heavily and rubbed his face in his hands before nodding. 

“Alright, give me a bloody piece of paper.”

***

“How long are they going to be gone?” you asked. 

“Maybe a few days,” Constantine guessed. “But time moves strangely here. Could be much longer, could be much shorter.”

Your head hurt just thinking about that, and you didn’t dare try to understand it just now.

“This ritual… does it hurt?” you asked. 

The spells had bounced off you and you’d felt nothing. But this sounded more involved, like maybe you’d have to do something physical.

“No,” he promised. “Just a little, erm, awkward.”

You arched an eyebrow at him and laughed cautiously. 

“What, we have to get naked or something?”

You waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead he was pressing his lips together in a fine line and avoiding your gaze. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “Awkward indeed.”

“The ritual’s all about washing away any sort of boundary,” he explained hurriedly. “Trust me, it’s not like I want this.”

You frowned, unsure why that felt like an insult. He saw your face as he glanced up and stood to face you. 

“Listen, luv, I think you’re an attractive bird and all, but--”

“Oh my god it’s fine,” you laughed. “I wasn’t being quiet about that,” you lied. “I’m just worried that something’s wrong with me. That someone’s made something be wrong with me.”   
You didn’t realize until you said it that it was true.

“What if someone, who apparently would have to be super powerful, did something to me without me knowing or remembering it?” 

You hugged your arms around yourself and shuddered, suddenly feeling grimy. Constantine assessed you carefully with eyes that looked older than he was. 

“I’ve been in that boat, luv, I know how you feel.”

He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke towards the high ceiling. 

“What happened to you?” you asked hesitantly. 

When his gaze fell to yours, he was far away, and it took a moment for him to respond. 

“A story for another time,” he shook his head. 

“Seems like we have nothing but time,” you pointed out. “Is there anything we can do to get ready for the ritual?”

He took another puff of his cigarette before nodding and blowing the smoke out his nose. You caught yourself staring at him, his head turned so you were looking at his profile against the glass window. 

“Aye, we can start drawing the circle I suppose. Won’t take long, but I will need some electrolytes after.”

“Why’s that?”

“Gotta draw it in my blood,” he smirked.

You balked, and you saw the amusement that gave him.

“Better you than me,” you shrugged. His face scrunched up and you sighed. “It’s gotta be my blood too?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Can I get a drink first?”

“Good idea.”

“Preferably not drugged this time?”

“Cross my heart,” he nodded, and walked past you and through the large library doors. 

You followed him outside into the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Glad she’s made it easy today,” he said, petting the molding of the threshold.

“Can you not talk like I know what you’re saying?” you asked. 

“The house changes her architecture at will,” he shrugged. “Sometimes if she’s in a bad mood and knows I’m hungry, she’ll make me walk miles to the fridge.”

You laughed softly. 

“I like her,” you smiled. 

Strange how that somehow made sense to you now. Yesterday you would never have believed it. Constantine went to the freezer and pulled out a large bottle of bourbon. He poured two glasses and offered one to you which you took gratefully. 

“Got anything to eat?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t eaten since before the show. Now that all the adrenaline had worn off, you were starving.

“I’m sure there’s something,” he said, wandering back over to the fridge. He took out a box of pizza and looked inside. “Still some slices,” he offered. 

“Perfect, don’t even heat them up, I’m too hungry.”

You started eating and sighed with relief. 

“So, you guys all do magic shows?” you asked.

“No,” he laughed. “It’s not all trap doors and cheering crowds. Dark shit, a lot of it.”

You nodded slowly. 

“I’m guessing you’ve seen that shit.”

“And then some,” he said, taking a long drink.

“Is this ritual dark magic?” you asked. You weren’t sure if that was a dumb question, but it did involve blood, so it seemed rational to you.

“It’s on the line,” he admitted. 

“So… we paint this circle of blood… get naked, and what, play Monopoly?”

Despite himself, he smiled at that. 

“There’s a lot of things that will happen, but mainly I’ll have to cover your body in a mixture of the venom of a deceased mage’s snake, and a unicorn’s heart as an offering to a goddess of truth.”

“Is the venom going to hurt me?” you asked. 

“No, just don’t get any in your eye or anything. You’ll be fine.”

You nodded, gripping your glass of whiskey a little too hard. Suddenly your hand felt warmer, and you realized that Constantine’s hand was prying yours away from the glass. 

“You’ll break it if you keep that up,” he said softly. He held your hand for a moment, and you felt extremely comforted, but he let it go just as quickly. 

You drank your drink a little too fast, and saw his eyes widen slightly. He followed suit, and stood up. 

“Should we get this over with?” he asked. 

“I guess,” you nodded. “Does it matter when we draw it? What if they don’t come back for a week?”

“It’ll be fine. Best to get it over with.”

You nodded and followed him down a multitude of hallways until he stopped to open a door. 

“I think we need this room,” he said, opening the door, peeking inside, and immediately closing it. “I was wrong,” he said stiffly, his face flushed. “Fucking house,” he muttered under his breath as he kept walking. 

Out of curiosity you peeked inside the room and saw a gorgeous canopy bed with a ton of lit candles around it. 

You wondered why the house would want the two of you in there, why she would change the rooms. You blushed, wondering if she thought you two should be together. Maybe she had misinterpreted what Xanadu had said about there being a warm relationship between you. Or maybe she hadn’t. 

You thought about him as you followed him down a few more hallways. You’d not even known him a full day, and already he’d drugged you and tried to tear you apart with magic. Not the best start to a relationship. Still, there was something about him that intrigued you, and you couldn’t help that you were attracted to him. 

After a few more opened and closed doors, you made it to the space Constantine was apparently looking for. Similar to the other rooms, it had large windows and tall ceilings, but dissimilarly, it had almost no furniture. There was a lone table, but that was it. You wondered if this was designated as some kind of spell casting room.

As you got closer to the table, Constantine reached down and pulled something out of his boot. It shined as it reflected the light, and you realized it was a knife. You balked, wondering what kind of life he lived if that was an everyday accessory.

You cautiously approached him, suddenly wondering just how much blood was needed from you that would require this knife. He turned away from you slowly, and made a few movements with his hands while muttering something. Lines appeared on the floor like a projection of the circle you were to draw in your blood. 

“We’ll split it up half and half,” he said, motioning to the design. 

It wasn’t terribly intricate. It looked like a circle with some shapes at four points around it. Nothing more than giving blood would have felt like, you assumed. He turned to you and loosened his tie slightly. 

“Now, normally magic would be used to create the cut for the blood. That’ll do for me, but we’ll have to go a bit old school with you I’m guessing. Hope the gods won’t mind,” he made a face. “Should we draw straws?” he asked. 

You held out your hand, palm up for him. You just wanted to get this over with.

“Just do it,” you said. 

He looked surprised, and smirked. 

“Not scared of blood then?”

“Are you kidding?” you asked. “I’m a woman. I see more blood in a month than you do in a year.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure of that, luv,” he said. His tone was light but his eyes were dark. 

Your face dropped, realizing he wasn’t kidding. 

“Shit,” you muttered. “I’m sorry.”

He stalled out for a moment, apparently surprised at your reaction, but shook his head. 

“All part of the job,” he said. He held the knife over your pointer finger. “It’ll be easiest to draw the circle if you’re just using your finger, alright?”

You nodded. The blade barely hurt as it sliced your skin just enough to bleed. It was so sharp, if you hadn’t seen it, you might not have felt it. That was a relief at least. Constantine moved his hand again and only highlighted your half of the circle for you to draw. It was easy, and you were soon done with it, returning to him with a small smile. At least you could do that part of this crazy ordeal. You felt somewhat useful at least. 

He handed you a small bandage, which you used to stop the blood while he put down the knife. 

“My turn,” he grimaced. 

He started muttering a spell while looking at his finger. You expected to see a cut form that was similar to yours, but instead, you heard him gasp slightly, and looked up at his face. Then down to his chest. Blood was seeping through his white shirt, his red tie getting lost in the sea of crimson. 

“What the fuck?” you asked. “I thought you said you were going to do your finger.”

“I was,” he stuttered, falling to the ground. 

You grabbed the small bandage he’d given you and ripped open his shirt, revealing a deep cut in his chest right over his heart. You pressed carefully on the wound, managing to stop most of the bleeding.

“What happened?” you asked. You seemed to have gotten the bleeding somewhat under control although you weren’t sure for how long, or how deep the cut was. 

“My guess?” he asked. “You not only repel magic, but turn it against the user when you’re in close proximity for a while.”

You had been standing close together when he’d done the spell.

“What do I do?” you asked, staring helplessly at the blood quickly soaking up the cloth. 

Looking around, you didn’t see anything else that could help you. The room was bare of nearly everything. You looked down at your t-shirt and quickly rid yourself of it, removing the bandage and replacing it with your shirt. It was far more effective than the small cloth he’d brought thinking only your fingers would be injured. 

“If I knew it was this easy to get you half naked, woulda cut myself earlier,” he half laughed. 

You would have smacked him if he wasn’t getting so pale. 

“What do I do?” you asked. “Do you have a first aid kit? I mean I can’t exactly call an ambulance.”

“I would do a healing spell, but I’m not sure that won’t take my head off, and I’m not about to try, even if you’re on the other side of the house,” he admitted. “Could be an exposure thing rather than distance. If you go to the kitchen, you should find a makeshift first aid kit. Patched myself up more than a few times with some thread and a needle.”

“Okay,” you nodded. You tried to seem more confident than you felt at your ability to wind your way back to the kitchen. “But you have to elevate your wound.”

You helped him shift to sit against the table and took his tie off of his neck, using it to bind the shirt to him at least a little bit. 

“Don’t you fucking die before I get back.”

“Or what?” he half smiled, but his eyes were dropping closed. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, getting up and sprinting towards the door. 

You ran the way you remembered, but the house had rearranged itself again. You thought she must really love Constantine, because the kitchen was right around the corner now. You opened and closed drawers hastily, looking for anything resembling what he had told you about. Finally you found it in the second to last drawer you opened. You also saw some super glue which you grabbed. You ran back the way you’d come to see that nothing had changed. 

Running towards Constantine, you saw that he was still breathing. His eyes fluttered open when he heard you. You threaded the needle surprisingly quickly despite your shaking hands, and held the needle out towards him. 

“You gotta do it, luv,” he nearly pleaded. “Can’t feel my hands too well.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beating hard against your ribs. You bit your lip and tried your best not to pass out. You removed the blood soaked shirt and tie from him, and opened his shirt completely. You did your best to sew him back together, and as you did, you saw the blood flow slow way down. Just for good measure, you super glued over the stitches.

Constantine had passed out before you were even half way up the wound, but you kept him upright and saw that he was still breathing. When you were done, you sat next to him, unsure of what to do now. You were basically covered in his blood, your bra and torso covered, your hands up to your forearms were red.

He had almost died because of you, because of whatever was wrong with you. You were just lucky that you’d saved him, if you’d even done that. You looked at the amount of blood everywhere and wondered if he wouldn’t die of shock. Trying to remember anything about first aid, you remembered that they always gave victims of shock a blanket. You didn’t see anything resembling a blanket, nor did you trust the house to be kind enough again to guide you to one, and you didn’t think your jeans would suffice, so you decided to sit close to him. 

He felt a little cold to the touch, so you placed your legs over his on the floor, like a T, and wrapped your arms around him, trying to at least keep some body heat contained between you. You weren’t sure if it was helping, but you were starting to feel warmer at least.

You stayed awake as long as you could, but your eyes felt heavy. It felt as if you’d run a marathon. You soon rested your head on his shoulder and fell asleep


	3. Chapter 3

When you woke, you felt an arm around your waist, and it took you a second to figure out why. Blinking awake, you found that Constantine’s arm was wrapped around you. You looked up to see him awake and looking down at you. 

“You’re still alive,” you muttered, somewhat in amazement. 

“Some woman told me not to fucking die, if I recall,” he smirked. “I was just following orders.”

Looking down at his wound, you saw the skin around it was already starting to bruise. It didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore at least.

“Not too shabby for a first timer,” he admired, looking down at his chest. 

You ghosted your hand along the line you’d made. 

“I was an amateur sewer once,” you admitted. “Guess it came in handy.”

His grip on your hip hadn’t loosened since you’d woken up, and you couldn’t say you minded. It was somewhat intoxicating being this close to him, having his face mere inches away from yours. You saw his gaze dip to your exposed skin and he took a deep breath. 

“What do you think happened? I mean you did magic around me before,” you pointed out. “Why did it react like that now?”

He thought about it for a moment and sighed. 

“Not sure, luv. Could be whatever’s doing this realized we might be close to getting rid of it with this ritual and lashed out? Could be you’re absorbing the spells I’ve been throwing at you, storing them up and then when your body can’t take being around magic anymore it reacts? Could be I fucked something up and I didn’t realize it.”

He looked you up and down for a moment then.

“Sorry you had to sacrifice your clothes for me,” he lamented.

“Are you?” you arched an eyebrow, remembering his comment earlier. 

“Mmm, no,” he laughed. It was good to see the bit of pink back in his cheeks. 

You sighed, watching this man that was now much more lively. 

“I’m sorry I almost killed you,” you said quietly, tracing small circles on his shoulder with your hand rather than looking at him.

“‘S not your fault, luv,” he said seriously. “At least, I don’t think it is,” he added with a jokingly serious look.

“Still,” you sighed. “I feel guilty.”

“At least it wasn’t anything worse. And now we know to be careful,” he shrugged. “Still, probably would have done the team a favor if I just…” He waved his hand vaguely.

He trailed off, and you looked at him seriously. Did he mean that? It was hard to tell if he was joking sometimes. 

“I know I’ve only known about magic for a day,” you admitted. “But I can tell when someone knows their shit and is good at it. You’d be a huge loss to these people.”

He seemed surprised by this, but didn’t say anything. You got up reluctantly, feeling your legs a little wobbly beneath you still. You saw his eyes graze down your body again, and felt somewhat exposed, but also flattered. He didn’t try to hide what he was doing, either. 

You extended a hand to him and helped him up, but you pulled too hard, and he stumbled forward, bumping his chest slightly against yours. You expected him to take a step back, but he didn't, he just stood there, towering over you, body pressed against yours. He was staring at you, but you couldn’t read his expression. Your hands had landed on his bare chest, and you took a breath and removed them, taking a step back. It felt like you’d been frozen in time for a moment. 

“Um, come on, let’s get some sugar back in that blood,” you offered.

“And then I think we should take a shower,” he said, looking at the two of you covered in blood.

For a moment you thought he meant together, but then you realized he didn’t, and blushed. 

“Yeah,” you said, a moment too late. He arched an eyebrow at you, but you turned away and started heading back to the kitchen. “Actually, you go shower, it’ll probably warm you right up, and I’ll see what I can rustle up in the kitchen.”

“Very domestic,” he winked, following you into the hallway. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned with a smirk. 

He made his way to one of the rooms along the way to the kitchen. The walk was longer, but eventually you made it to the kitchen. You checked the fridge but didn’t see too much. You found pasta in the cabinets and started to boil some water on the stove. You also found some cookies hidden away in the back of one cabinet, and took those out for dessert to help his blood sugar.

You washed your hands the best you could of his blood, using some paper towels to get some of it off your torso. You’d have to get the rest in the shower, and then you guessed you’d have to borrow someone’s clothes for a while. Maybe they had a washing machine, you noted.

It then dawned on you that you had no idea how long you’d be staying here. How long would it take to figure out what was wrong with you? What was happening to your life while you were gone?

You couldn't think about that right now, you decided. There was no way anyone was going to let you go, and even if you escaped, you’d apparently escape into space. So you had to wait it out.

You nearly dropped the box of pasta when Constantine came back into the room wearing only a low waisted towel. He winked at your reaction and you gave him a look, trying to cover up how attracted you were to his wet hair and bare chest.

He looked better already from the shower. You dumped the pasta into the water and stirred it. 

“I’m gonna go do the same,” you noted. “If you don’t mind. I’ll probably be out before the pasta’s ready anyway. You can eat these for now if you want,” you added, pushing the cookies towards him.

You were on your way out of the room when you stopped. 

“Um, are there clothes or something I can borrow?” you asked. 

“Well, Deadman doesn’t wear clothes, what with the not having a body thing, and Zatanna’s room will curse anyone who enters without permission so… I guess you’ll have to settle for one of my stunning outfits,” he beamed cheekily. “If it’s all the same to you, there’s a bathrobe in there until we’re done eating. My room’s usually on the other side of the house. Sometimes it’s quite a walk.”

You nodded, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. It was pretty classy with the clawfoot tub and white tiles. You started the water, and it was warm immediately. The showerhead had the perfect pressure, and you used what products lined the bathtub to rid yourself of all the blood and grime of the past day. It felt like getting a new life force.

You found the bathrobe when you exited the shower, although it was a little short for your liking. You came back to the kitchen and checked the pasta, noticing Constantine had eaten his fair share of cookies. You smiled at this, and drained the pasta, putting it onto two plates for you both.

“That suits you,” Constantine laughed, eyeing your robe.

“Mm, as does your towel-chic look,” you smirked. 

He looked at you for a moment, and you thought he might hit on you again, but he took a breath and looked at you seriously. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For saving my life.”

“I’m the one who nearly took it,” you shook your head. “It was the least I could do.”

“Well, still,” he said. “I owe you one.”

Your mind immediately went to a dirtier place than it should have, and you blushed. You tried to distract yourself with eating the pasta.

When you were done, you started your long walk to Constantine’s room to borrow some clothes. 

“When are we going to finish the circle?” you asked. 

“I’ll have to use a knife now just to be safe,” he said. “So probably once I’ve had a little bit to recover.”   
“Do you guys communicate while they’re away? Do we know their status at all?”

“It’s hard to communicate to and from the house since it’s not on the plane they’re on. Zatanna knows how to send a type of emergency flair if needed,” he informed you. 

“So no news is good news,” you nodded. 

“Exactly.”

Constantine seemed to know where he was going, but you weren’t sure that the house wanted you to actually make it there. You’d been walking for a solid five minutes. You’d been quiet for a few moments and could feel his gaze on you. 

“What?” you asked sheepishly. 

“Just wondering what you’re thinking,” he shrugged. “And wishing I’d stashed a cigarette pack in that robe.”

You laughed slightly but sighed, trying to put words to what was going on in your head. 

“Just seems like I died or something,” you said. “Like I’ll never go back to my other life.”

He nodded knowingly. 

“I’ve been there. The first demon I saw… Even a peek into this world changes you. Changes everything you thought you knew.”

You could hear the enjoyment in his statement and weren’t sure you could match his enthusiasm. So far your rendezvous into this world had contained kidnapping and almost watching someone die.

“It’s not always like this,” he said, noticing your wariness. “Sometimes magic is beautiful. You’ve seen Zee’s shows.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded. “She’s incredible.”

“I’d show you a trick or two, but I’m afraid it’d disembowel me,” he smirked.    
You cringed, still feeling guilty about it. You watched the scar on his chest for a moment, and realized it was not the only one. You hadn’t noticed before, but you saw many imperfect lines dotting his body.

“At least I’m not the only one to take a stab at you,” you sighed. “I’m afraid to ask what company I’d be in if I met the people who did all that to you.”

He sighed and nodded. 

“No one’s quite gone for the heart though,” he smirked. “You’re the only one.”

Something about that made your stomach twist pleasantly, and you smiled. 

With another few minute's walk, you reached his bedroom. The door had some carvings on it that you were sure were supposed to keep out things like you.

He opened the door, immediately dropping his towel as he picked up some pants off the bed. He didn’t turn around while he changed, but nor did he seem bothered to do it in front of you. Looking briefly through his closet, he turned to you. 

“All I got are undershirts and dress shirts, I’m afraid. Pick your poison.”

You wondered without a bra if a thin undershirt would be a little less than you were comfortable with, so you picked the dress shirt.

“I have a really old pair of sweatpants you can borrow too if you like,” he added. You nodded and took the clothes from him. 

“I suppose we should find you a room, eh?” he asked. He still hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, and you felt your heart clench every time you looked at his wound.

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

You followed him out into the hall and realized a door had appeared across it. It had your name on it. Looking at him, you saw him shrug, and you followed him into the room. 

Only, it wasn’t a new room, it was Constantine’s room. Somehow you’d walked out of his room, across the hall, and into his room.

He rolled his eyes and walked back out, walking down the hall and opening every door. He slammed every one after looking into it, and made his way back to you. He held his eyes shut for a moment and took a breath, apparently very annoyed. 

“Every room leads back to my room,” he explained. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at this.

“Oh my god, the house wants us to…” you blushed, unable to finish the sentence.

He laughed, and for the first time you could sense that he was nervous.

“I’d say you can have my room and I’ll just go to one of the couches, but I have a feeling I’d never find the door,” he said. 

“It’s fine,” you offered. “You should sleep in your own bed. You’re injured. I’ll just pile up some clothes and sleep on the floor or whatever.”

As you walked back into his room, you saw the house had added and lit some candles around the bed and on the various surfaces of the room.

“She’s not subtle,” you laughed. 

Realizing this wouldn’t give you a room to change in, you turned away from Constantine. You slipped the sweatpants on first, and then dropped the robe, revealing only your back to him. You quickly buttoned up the shirt and turned around.    
“Ready for the runway,” you teased.

He laughed and sat down on the bed. You had no idea what time it was, but you were definitely still tired from the events of the day, and right now that bed looked really inviting. You tentatively walked to the other side, and sat down, intending just to think about how you wanted to build your bed for the night. 

“You’ll be alright,” he said softly. 

You weren’t expecting him to speak, so you were a little startled, but looked over at him. His features were soft, open. 

“Why are you so nice to me all of the sudden?” you asked. “I thought you hated me or something when I got here.”

He looked down at the sheets and then met your gaze. 

“To be honest, I was scared of you, luv. Sometimes evil comes at me in the most… inviting packages it can,” he laughed. “I thought you were a booby trap, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“How do you know I’m not?” you asked. 

“Well,” he said, resuming some of his cocky attitude. “I reckon if you came here to kill me, you could have just let me bleed out.”

“That would have been a lot less messy for me. And I’d still have my favorite shirt.”

“Hey, that’s basically a Constantine heirloom,” he pointed at your outfit. “Very valuable in certain circles.”

You laughed and smiled at him. You knew it was hard for him to be this nice to you, to let anyone in even a little bit to this side of him. You could tell. You’d seen so many men like him, hardened from what they’d been through, scared to show the least bit of kindness. You realized that while talking, you’d both crawled closer towards the center of the bed.

“What’s going to happen to me?” you asked, your throat nearly closing with the dread of the answer.

He shifted closer to you, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I but for now, I know we should get some rest,” he said, looking down at his wound.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a little breathless from his proximity. “Erm, do you mind if I…”

You motioned to the bed, dreading the thought of sleeping on the floor. 

“Not at all, luv,” he said. 

It was still warm in the room. You slipped out of the sweatpants he’d given you and slid under the covers. You could tell from Constantine’s breathing that he had passed out. You couldn’t blame him. People were kept a long time in hospitals after losing that much blood, and  _ they _ got transfusions. 

You stared up, not seeing much in the dark room. You could feel his weight on the bed, but weren’t touching him. 

It was strange to think about him, about whatever your relationship with him was, or was turning into. The house was such a liminal space, it seemed so out of touch with the reality you knew. Would you ever return to that reality? What if they never found out what was wrong with you? 

And what would happen if they did? You thought about the man that laid beside you, and wondered if you could ever go back to your real life. Would you ever stop thinking about him? About Zatanna, and Deadman? You would look at other people and feel so distant from them. Perhaps they’d wipe your memory of this even happening. Still, somewhere inside you would know. Something had happened to you, something was changed.

Somewhere during an existential crisis, you fell asleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

You woke up first, and somehow the room was brighter. It seemed the house had some kind of ambient light settings based on the time of day. That was your best guess as to why you could see in this room despite the void that remained unchanged outside. 

Feeling the rumbling in your stomach, you snuck out of bed, deciding to make up in a very small way for almost killing Constantine. You gathered up some breakfast, and brought it back to the room. You thought the house might actually be in love with you, because the walk wasn’t nearly as long to and from the kitchen. The bacon was still hot when you reached Constantine. 

The door creaking as you came in made him stir, and you watched as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His hair was in every direction possible, and he blinked a few times to register what was happening.

“Morning,” you smiled. “Brought you some breakfast.”

He eyed you like this might be some kind of trap.

“What?” you asked, setting his plate on the bed and sitting on the side.

“A gorgeous woman wearin’ my shirt and bringing me breakfast in bed?” he asked. “Just not a sight I’m used to.”

You blushed, feeling a little exposed wearing just his shirt.

“Yeah well, don’t get used to it,” you teased. “It was mostly just ‘cause I was hungry. And feeling a little guilty,” you added, glancing at his chest.

He bit into a piece of toast and sighed. 

“It’s alright, luv,” he promised. “She who bringeth bacon shall be forgiven.”

He gave you a cheeky grin and started eating. You joined him, feeling your stomach thank you.

“Kevin used to bring me breakfast in bed after a breakup,” you reminisced.

“Must have been nice,” Constantine said. “I only got hangover brought to me, probably from Hell.”

You laughed softly. 

“Yeah, well, I got those too.”

“Who’d ever dump you?” Constantine asked, somehow more charming with bedhead.

“Oh plenty of people,” you promised. You furrowed your brow, thinking. “You meet a lot of people in this line of work?”

“Sure, we meet loads of people,” he nodded. “It’s the not being a giant bastard to them part that I haven’t figured out yet.”

“Oh, I get you,” you nodded. “You’re the bad boy with the heart of gold that’s too scared to share it with anyone.”

You meant it as a joke, and he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something felt off. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I was just kidding, I’m sure you--”

“No, you pretty much hit the nail on the proverbial head,” he laughed. “‘Cept I’m not sure my heart’s gold. Probably that knock off zinc stuff that turns your skin green.”

You blinked, unsure how you’d guessed so accurately, or why he was admitting it. Judging by his confused features, he wasn’t sure either. You vaguely wondered if he had some kind of protection spell on his heart or mind that didn’t work around you. Perhaps only figuratively, though you could hardly tell anymore.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I pretty much saw your actual heart, and it’s definitely at least bronze,” you tried your best at a joke, looking at his chest wound.

He laughed at this, and seemed lighter.

“How does it feel, speaking of,” you asked, moving closer to ghost your fingers along the angry line of stitches.

“Feels like my chest got ripped open,” he winced. “But I’ll live.”

“Does being hurt physically hinder your ability to do magic?” you asked, curious.

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “Depends where I’m hurt. Hands are the big one. Suppose if I got my tongue cut out, I’d be near useless.”

You blanched at the thought and he laughed at your squeamishness. Thinking about it, and figuring you had the whole day with the only objective to finishing drawing a circle, you decided to ask some of your more pressing questions. 

“So what do you guys  _ do _ ?” you asked. “Like do you always work as a team? Do you fight bad guys, what’s your day to day?”

“You’re just full of questions aren’t you?” he smirked.

“I’m here, I’m curious,” you shrugged. “Don’t you think what you can do is amazing? You hang out in space with a super cool sorceress and a ghost. That’s pretty rad.”

“It’s just my life,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t think it was so rad if you hung out for long enough.”

“Dangerous,” you muttered. “Right. All the blood you mentioned.”

“Mmm,” he said pensively, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

“So if you die, will you become a ghost too?” you asked. 

“I bloody hope not,” he laughed. “Deadman’s annoying as hell.”

You chuckled and took the plates off the bed to put them on the nightstand.

“Should we go finish the circle?” you asked. “Get it out of the way?”

He nodded. You rounded the bed to his side, and were glad you did, because he stumbled when he stood up. You did your best to catch him without touching his wound, placing your hands on either side of it.

“Woah, you good?” you asked. 

He shook his head. 

“I think I just got up too fast,” he said.

You hadn’t taken your hands away from him, and stayed close, looking up at him to make sure his eyes weren’t rolling back in his head or anything. Your breath caught in your throat. He was looking down you, his face inches from yours. Your body leaned in slightly, patiently asking for more.

“Are you okay?” you asked, hearing your voice was mostly a whisper. You didn’t know why you asked again. It felt so heavy in the silence.

You moved closer to him, your lips hovering less than an inch away from his. You wanted to do it, to just lean in and kiss him. He breathed out slowly and took a step backwards.

You pressed your lips together, unable to look at him. Part of you wanted to play it cool, act like you didn’t want to kiss him at all. But you couldn’t kid a kidder.

Luckily all he did was smile sadly and say, “We should get to it, then.”

You nodded, taking a moment to yourself before following him out of the room. You made it back to the ritual space, and saw the blood was still on the floor, the table, everywhere. 

“We might as well leave it for now. Won’t hurt having more of a sacrifice here,” he said, looking where you were looking.

But you were frozen. With him looking so alive, you’d almost forgotten how pale he’d looked, how close to death. You stood pinned to the floor just staring, until you felt a hand on the small of your back.

“Alright, luv?” he asked softly. You jumped at the contact, but eased into it. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. “There was just so much blood. I thought you would…”

“Me too,” he admitted. “But here I am, ready to bleed again.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled. “This is all because of me.”

“Shh,” he hushed. “We’ve been through this. It’s not your fault.”

You took a breath and tried to believe him. He took a knife and cut the tip of his finger, not daring to risk magic around you again. He finished his half of the circle quickly, and blotted his finger with a small bandage to stop the blood. 

“I survived, see?” he smirked. 

You were still a little shaken, but smiled at his effort.

“So when the others come back, I guess we’ll see if this was worth all the blood.”

You stared, worrying about the ritual.

“Don’t you have to use magic for the ritual?” you asked. “What if something happens?

“I’m hoping not,” he said. “It’s more like… I guess it’s kind of like using a hose to water plants rather than, say, crying on them?” he tried. “It’s the same kind of juice, but from a different source for these kinds of rituals.”

You bit your lip, unsure you wouldn’t somehow decapitate him during this. He must have sensed your uneasiness, because he came back over to you and pulled you into a hug. It was unexpected, but very comforting. 

“Whatever happens isn’t your fault,” he promised. “If anyone gets hurt, it’s not your fault.”

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this comfort from this man who barely knew you, but you took it gladly. You buried yourself in him, letting him hold you close.

When you finally stepped back, you felt a little better. 

“Now what?” you asked. Your one task was complete. Now you just had to wait for the others to come back. And you had no idea how long that would be.

“Seems we’ve got the house to ourselves with nothing to do,” he winked. “Thoughts?”

You felt the heat in your cheeks when your mind told you its first thoughts, but remembered he didn't even want to kiss you this morning. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s your house. What can we do?”

He thought for a moment and you wondered if he’d ever had a free moment in this house when he couldn’t do magic.

“I’m sure the house has some idea,” he shrugged. “Shall we explore?” 

He extended his hand to you, and you took it, feeling the comforting warmth it brought you. You walked aimlessly down the hallway for a while until you came to two tall doors. 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” Constantine marveled, running his hands over the gold accent paint.

“What’s inside?” you asked. 

“Come on,” he grinned. 

He opened the heavy doors, and the sight behind them took your breath away. The room had cathedral-like ceilings, floor to ceiling windows, multiple sculptures, and nearly an overgrowth of plantlife. It felt like a greenhouse in the beginning of time, with huge flowers you were sure weren’t native to your time. In the center of the room, inset a few steps down, was a large pool. Somehow, light was coming in from the windows, and everything was very warm. 

“I guess we go for a swim,” Constantine laughed, starting to strip. 

You hazarded a guess that he hadn’t done this in a long time. And not just being in this room, but actually taking time to enjoy himself. You couldn’t help yourself, you just stared at him being happy for a moment. He’d stripped down to his boxers, laying his clothes a little ways away from the edge of the pool, and waded into the water. He took a dive and swam a little ways out, bursting dramatically from the water to turn and smile at you. 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he grinned. 

You walked forwards, tentatively sticking your toes in. It was deliciously cool in this otherwise hot room, and you sighed, starting to unbutton the shirt you’d borrowed. You expected him to whistle, or make some kind of joke, but he just looked at you for a moment, when you were rid of his shirt, and then averted his eyes. You swam up close to him.

“You okay?” you asked. 

“‘Course,” he smirked. 

“Good,” you said, deciding to bring that playful carefree feeling back. “Then close your eyes.”

He arched an eyebrow but did as he was told.

You swam a little ways away and smiled to yourself.

“Polo!” you started the game. He laughed with his eyes closed, getting what you wanted him to do.

He made his way towards you, and you deftly moved through the water. 

“Marco,” he said. 

You were on the other side of the pool by now, and safely answered. He moved faster than you’d expected, cutting through the water. You made your way into the deep end.

“Marco,” he said as he swam towards you.

“Polo,” you laughed, trying your hardest to swerve out of the way of his incoming hand.

You pushed off the deep end wall of the pool and made your way back to the shallow end, but he could hear you swimming. He was close on your heels. 

“Marco,” you could hear the excitement in his voice. 

“Polo,” you nearly screamed, as he made it so close he almost got your arm. 

“Marco,” he said, backing you into the corner.

You turned, contemplating cheating and getting out of the pool, but you thought a moment too long, and he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you back towards him. 

“Gotcha,” he laughed.

You closed your eyes for a moment just to enjoy the sensations you were feeling. So much of his skin was touching yours. His chest was pressed up against your back, his hands wrapped around your bare stomach. You felt your heart start to hurt, as you realized you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. If he didn’t want you, you couldn’t just pretend like these moments meant anything. You twisted in his grasp, and stepped back, hoisting yourself so you were sitting on the pool wall. He stepped towards you still, as if hidden waves were pushing him. He stood between your legs, his head coming up to about your chest height. You leaned over him slightly. 

“Thanks for that, luv,” he said softly. “I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a long time.”

You sighed and smiled, glad to be of some help, but annoyed that your heart fluttered with the way he was looking up at you right now. The fluttering didn't stop as he put his hands on your thighs, closer to your knees, and looked at you.

You couldn’t stop your hand from pushing his hair back, preventing water from dripping into his eyes. He closed his eyes at the contact as if reveling in it, but you were sure he was just waiting for you to stop, so you did. You seriously needed to stop projecting your feelings onto his features.

You got up and started to walk around the enormous room instead, hoping he would keep swimming so you could clear your head of him a little. To your dismay, but your heart’s content, he followed you.

“Last time I was here I was with Swamp Thing,” he said. 

You gave him a look, and he laughed. 

“Right, forgot. He’s um… It’s hard to explain. He’s a friend… ish. Haven’t seen him for a while.”

“Gets a little lonely in this life, eh?” you asked.

“Always done alright on my own,” he shrugged.

“We can all do  _ alright _ ,” you said. “But what good is alright? So many better adjectives out there.”

He smirked at you as you kept walking through the seemingly endless rows of overgrown plants.

“Excellent,” you named. “Fantastic, amazing.”

“I’m not sure I even know those words in relation to my life,” he said darkly. 

“Maybe you should get a thesaurus,” you teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted. 

“Was it ever amazing?” you asked. “I mean, did you have a life before all this stuff?”

He reached up and pulled two apples off of one of the trees. He gave one to you.

“Nothing worth noting,” he said, taking a large bite out of the apple. “What about you?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to think of anything interesting you’d ever done. Truly nothing compared to anything in this world. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It kind of seems like a dream now. Or maybe this is the dream.”

“Not a nightmare?” he asked.

You glanced down at his wound and thought about all the blood, all the danger. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you admitted. 

“That’s usually the story with me,” he said. “I’ve got tragedy in my blood.”

“It did take you a tragically long time to get me in marco polo,” you teased.

You didn’t want to be the cause of the dark look that had started to come over his features. You were sure he had started thinking about all of the horrible things he’d seen and done, and you didn’t want him to have to. You wanted that smile back. And not the cocky smirk, the smile. And you got it.

“Well, turns out I’m faster on land!” he jumped at you.

You squealed and ran, running fast around the garden, listening to him keeping up with you. Running felt so good, and all of the plants in the room made the air feel fresh. When you rounded the edge of the room, you ran back towards the pool and dove into the deep end. You surfaced smiling, and watched as Constantine lept in with you, splashing you with a ton of water.

“Part of me hopes they never come back with those ingredients,” Constantine nearly whispered, treading a foot away from you. 

You dipped lower in the water for a moment to hide your grin. You’d been thinking the same thing.

“I’m sure you’d like to do magic at some point again,” you countered. 

He floated onto his back and looked up at the arches that crossed the ceiling. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “This is pretty nice.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he didn’t mean it. You could tell that magic was his core. It’d be like trying to go without food for too long for him. You joined him, floating on your back and looking up at the ceilings so high, you couldn’t quite make out the top. You lazily swam for a little while more, and when your skin began to wrinkle, you made your way out of the pool.

Your splashes had soaked the clothes you’d left on the side, so you carried them to Constantine’s room. When you entered, you immediately felt something was different. Constantine’s attention had peaked as well, and you found yourselves both looking at the new door that had formed in the room. It was next to the closet that held Constantine’s clothes. He looked at you before crossing the room to cautiously open the door. 

“She must really like you,” he said, somewhat jealousy, as he stepped aside to reveal what was inside. 

It was a closet. As you stepped forward, you saw that it was a walk in closet with clothes that seemed just your size. There were dresses, pants, shorts, and all matter of shirts. Everything seemed to be to your taste as well.

“Thanks,” you muttered to the house, running your hand lovingly along the trim. You swore you felt a slight vibration in response.

Walking further into the closet you saw some underwear and bras as well, and you sighed happily. After walking through the cold house in wet underwear, you were nearly shivering. Constantine had rounded the corner to change, and you took the time to close the closet door most of the way and change into something warm. You found a huge sweater and some leggings along with some thick socks. 

Your hair was starting to curl as it dried, and you wondered what was in that pool water to make it so nice and soft afterwards.

Even with the sweater, you still felt cold in your bones. 

“Any chance we could find a fireplace somewhere?” you asked, thinking there might be one in the room they’d first brought you to.

Constantine had dressed in his usual outfit, but left the tie off for now, leaving a few buttons at the top undone and his sleeves rolled up.

“Catch a chill did ya?”

You nodded, unsure why men were always warm, or why the house varied in temperatures so much.

“Yeah, I know a place,” he smiled softly. He seemed lighter now, if that were possible. 

As you walked, you wondered if he held hands with everyone he walked with in this house. It felt strangely intimate to you, but maybe that was just a British thing? Maybe he was just a hand holder in the way that some people greeted with a hug instead of handshake.

You couldn’t ignore that any contact with him made you feel safe and comforted. Maybe he knew that, and wanted to make you feel better? You weren’t sure and were too embarrassed to ask.

He lead you into a different room than the first you’d entered, but you were thankful for it. The room was centered around an enormous fireplace. It reminded you of Citizen Kane. You could easily stand inside the hearth and put your hands up without reaching the top. A large amount of wood was stacked inside it, and Constantine crossed the room to light it with the fire starter by the side of the mantel.

You sat down on the furry rug in front of the fire and waited for it to grow. The flames flickered and grew larger and larger, and finally, it was almost literally roaring.

You glanced around the room, taking in the splendor. This might have been the most opulent room you’d been in so far. The stone carvings alone would have won it, but the furniture seemed like it was taken out of a castle.

Constantine walked over to an old trunk and opened it, taking what looked like a bottle of liquor out.

“You like?” Constantine asked, seeing you admiring the house.

“This house is something else,” you sighed.

“No one’s quite sure exactly how she works.”

“I love her,” you decided. “She’s amazing.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Constantine smiled, leaning against the love seat behind him.

You held your hands out to the fireplace and felt the warmth greet your skin. You wanted to live here on this rug, with this warmth. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a long sip, then handed the bottle to you. The liquid was harsh, like cheap whiskey, but it helped warm you too.

“Tell me something about yourself,” you said, turning to him. He looked surprised as he lit a cigarette.

“What?”

“Anything,” you shrugged, handing the bottle back. He took a long drink and grimaced.

“Well, you know the basics. Master of the dark arts, exorcist, general bastard,” he laughed. 

“Exorcist?” you asked. “I didn't know that part.”

“Mmm, less green vomit and more writhing pain. They got the expletives right though,” he smirked.

You blinked, taking in all the meaning behind what he was saying. 

“So does that mean that God is real?” you asked. “That Satan and Hell and all that…”

“Aye, luv,” he said. “But not just that God. Many gods are real. A lot of myths and legends too. Seen a lot of ‘em in my time.”

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around all of that, but you were trying to.

“Bigfoot?” was all you could ask. You were serious, but then burst out laughing, as did he.

“I’ll admit I haven’t met him,” Constantine said. “But I can ask Swamp Thing, he’d know.”

You held the bottle after drinking more, and thought some more.

“So does that mean fate exists? Like soulmates and destiny and everything?”

“I dunno, luv,” he admitted. “I’ve only been on the outskirts of divinity. They don’t take kindly to me.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

“Conned a lot of ‘em. Fucked ‘em over. They’re not thrilled that I only pay tribute when I need something.”

“I’d argue a lot of people are like that,” you said. “Only praying when they think they’re about to die.”

“Why do you think the world’s so shit?” he laughed. “The gods don't like most people. But sometimes I think they knew what I’d grow into. They’ve been horrible to me since the beginning.”

“What happened to you?” you asked, moving a little closer to him. You were feeling the whiskey now, feeling tired and happy and close to him.

“Ah, nothing you’d want to hear,” he gave you a pained smile. 

“I do,” you promised. 

He looked at you for a moment, the light on your face flickering with the illumination of the fire. He sighed and looked into the flames.

“My mum died giving birth to me,” he said softly. “Dad called me killer my whole life. Used to use me as his personal ashtray,” he added, shifting his arm to show you some faded burns.

“Fuck,” you said, handing him the bottle.

“And it’s been just joyful since,” he smiled sadly.

“I lost my mother too,” you added quietly. “But not that long ago. Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember her, then it might not hurt so much.”

Constantine shifted a little closer, slipping his hand into yours.

“I promise, you’ll love those memories someday. They’ll help you instead of haunt you. I just have to wonder what she was like. Piece together a blurry puzzle from others’ accounts.”

“Man, I’m sorry I brought us to a downer note on this fun day,” you apologized.

He laughed and shook his head.

“It’s alright,” he said. You were quiet for a moment, so he asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

You smiled sheepishly and shrugged. 

“Just about how much has changed since I first got here,” you said. “How much I’ve learned, how much my perceptions have changed of you, of this house, of everything.”

“Of me?” he asked, a cocky grin on his features. 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Turns out you’re not some cocky heartless guy after all.”   
“That’s what you thought of me?” he asked, amused. 

“I mean, you flung magic at me for hours with little regard for my physical or mental wellbeing,” you argued.

“To be fair, I thought you were some kind of Trojan horse monster thing,” he shrugged. 

“How do you know I’m not?” you teased. “This could be a super long con.”

“You're too easy to read,” he chuckled. “You’d be the worst conwoman in history.”

You faked being appalled and then laughed.

“Yeah, well, we’ll know soon enough I guess. If they ever return.”

His smile dropped and he nodded.    
“Right, when they come back.”

You were sure you were both having the same thought, that you could get used to this. Somehow it had become so easy to be with him, and you dreaded any changes to that.

“Can anyone learn magic?” you asked tentatively, swirling the liquor around the bottle.

He arched an eyebrow and looked at you carefully. 

“Some have more of a natural talent for it than others, but theoretically yes,” he answered.

You pressed your lips together, wondering if you were about to make a fool of yourself.

“So, would it be dumb of me to ask if I could maybe stick around for a while? Learn some of this stuff? Maybe be some kind of apprentice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but he was quiet for so long that you eventually looked up. The expression you thought you’d see of patronizing dismissal wasn’t there. Instead there was an intense sadness. 

“I don't advise it, luv,” he answered.

“It’s just… I can’t quite envision going back to a normal life after this,” you said. “I feel like if we figure out what’s going on with me and fix it… I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to help people and so far I’ve done a sub par job as just me. Maybe I could do more with stuff from this world in my pocket.”

“Look at the lot of us in this house,” Constantine pointed out. “Do we look like we’re leading fulfilling lives?”

You really couldn’t answer that, you’d only known the others for a few hours so you didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, sometimes things work out and we save people, save worlds. But most of the time we fuck up, or we lose people. And not just like you do in your world. These are terrible, soul-cast-into-Hell deaths. It fucks you up.”

You nodded slowly, returning your gaze to the bottle.

“But…” he added quietly, almost against his will. “If you’re okay with that…”

He paused and waited for you to look at him. He didn't look pleased with himself, but you couldn’t help but smile. 

“So you’d teach me things?” you asked. “When I’m all fixed.”

“Assuming we can figure it out,” he nodded. “I suppose I could.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

“You know I didn’t think we were so similar until now,” he noted. “You sound just like me when I first started.” You smiled. “You sure you want to spend all that time with me?” he asked, half joking.

“Oh you’re right, nevermind,” you teased, pushing him lightly.

“Alright,” he said, putting his hands up as if in defense. “Just know, most people would do anything  _ not _ to have to be around me for extended periods of time.”

He had a teasing tone to his voice, but you could tell he wasn’t joking. You were sure that he didn’t show this side of himself to everyone. Not everyone was privy to what you’d seen the past few days. They didn’t know that under that facade was a kind and caring man, and they didn’t want to see that. It was easier to hate him, easier to accept what they assumed of him, rather than get to know him.

You watched his face in the fire’s light, warm and soft. You heard the swish of the bottle as he set it down on the rug and leaned in slightly towards you. His breath was warm on your skin, you could feel it as he drew nearer. You closed your eyes.

And that’s when you heard the doors creaking open.


	5. Chapter 5

You were loath to open your eyes and lean back away from him, but did so to see who entered. It was Zatanna and Deadman of course. You stood up next to Constantine, but he kept a hand on your lower back, as if maintaining a stream of calming energy to you.

You saw the others clock this contact, but they didn’t say anything. 

“Well it took a while, but we got all your shit,” Zatanna announced. “Any developments here?”

The question was somewhat pointed, as her eyes darted to his touch, but Constantine didn’t seem phased. 

“Well, she almost killed me,” he said, removing his hand to unbutton his shirt, revealing his wound. 

They both looked shocked, and came closer for a better look. Zatanna eyed you somewhat suspiciously. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Tried to use a small cutting spell for the ritual and nearly cut my heart out. I have a theory,” he shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I think not only does she absorb magic, but she also repels it, turns it against the user. At least after a certain amount of time.”

Zatanna took an almost unnoticable step backwards. 

“Noted,” she said. 

“To be fair, she also  _ saved  _ my life by stitching me up.”

This did win you a slight smile from the woman.

“You should come check out what we got, make sure it’s right,” she said.

“Lead the way,” he answered. “Deadman?”

“Babysitting duty?” he guessed. 

Constantine winked at him and followed Zatanna out of the room, but not without a glance or two at you on his way out. When you were alone with Deadman, he hovered over the love seat, as if sitting on it, though you weren’t sure he could actually physically touch anything.

“So, spill,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“I saw the way you were standing together when we came in,” he smirked. “I saw the way Zatanna saw the way you were too,” he laughed. “What’s going on between you and Constantine?”

“Nothing,” you laughed too loudly. “Just trying not to kill him.” Your brain just processed the second half of his statement. “What do you mean about Zatanna?”

“Oh, they used to be an item,” Deadman said. “Very dramatic couple.”

“Oh,” you muttered. Damn, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. How could you compare to her?

“I don’t think it’s a horrible idea for him… you.”

You perked up, excited to hear this, but unsure how he could know that with his limited knowledge of you. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

Deadman frowned and thought about it for a minute.    
“I guess it’s like an opposites attract type of theory,” he said. “Nothing for Constantine works out in this world. But you’re not from this world. I mean, you’re obviously smart, and fast on your feet if you could save his life like that. Not to mention not losing your mind looking out into the void outside the window. Heck, if I were corporeal, I’d try for you myself, darlin’,” he winked. You laughed, flattered. Then you looked at the window.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” you pointed out the window. “Is it like space?”

“It’s more like nothing?” he tried to explain. “Like you wouldn’t explode out there, you could stick your head out the window, but I wouldn't recommend a long field trip. You’d sort of eventually dissolve into nothing, or starve to death.”

“Fun,” you muttered. “I like your theory,” you added, referencing what he’d said about Constantine.

“Me too,” he smiled. “Seems like we could use someone like you around. Keep us crazy kids in line.”

“So really I’m the babysitter in this situation?” you laughed. 

He nodded and laughed along.    
“I guess so.”

You cocked your head to the side, and wondered if it would be okay to ask some more of the questions buzzing in your head. 

“You want to know what it’s like, being dead?” he asked. 

“I mean, I wasn’t going to straight up invade your… Yes,” you laughed. “I do, obviously.”

“It’s lonely,” he said seriously. You took a step towards him. “You don’t realize how essential even just a hug is until you can’t do it anymore.”

You nodded, feeling sympathy for this poor soul.

“If it’s any consolation, I’d hug you if I could,” you offered. “But, I bet you get to eavesdrop on some pretty interesting stuff around here.”

“Oh yeah, one time I heard Constantine singing a country song in the shower and I teased him about it for a year.”

You laughed, having a hard time imagining such a scene. It just felt so ridiculous, you kept laughing, even as Constantine and Zatanna walked in. You managed to pull yourself together as Constantine walked over to you. He stood a little closer than you expected, touching your shoulder with his. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

“Me,” Deadman answered. “Obviously.”

Constantine rolled his eyes and looked at your face, seemingly to see if you agreed with this. 

“So turns out Zatanna’s venom is from an  _ undead _ mage’s snake,” Constantine said. 

“He was dead last time I saw him,” Zatanna shrugged. 

“Unfortunately that won’t cut it. Now, I have an old friend I know who can get us what we need, but I have to be the one to get it. She doesn’t much care for me, but I might be able to talk her into it. If she doesn’t kill me first. So just sit tight, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Take her with you,” Deadman said, pointing to you. “If they’re anything like the others of your  _ old friends _ we’ve run into, wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a magical shield.”

You shot him a look, but he ignored you. 

“Nah, mate, too dangerous.”

“She’s indestructible,” Deadman argued. “If you can’t take me or Zatanna with you, at least take her.”

Constantine looked at you for a moment, weighing this decision. Apparently this old friend was just dangerous enough to warrant a shield, because he nodded. 

“Alright, but we have to get you some clothes, luv.”

“The house gave me a closet,” you updated them. “What should I dress for?” you asked Constantine.

“I’m sorry, the house gave you a  _ closet _ ?” Zatanna asked, seemingly impressed.

She seemed nice to you, but there was still caution in her gaze, as if you were a bomb that might explode. Fair enough, you guessed. But your mind also wandered to her and Constantine. How long had they been together? Was it serious? You hated yourself for being so jealous over a man you’d only just met.

“It’s a walk-in,” Constantine smirked.

It was like the two of them were discovering their parent had a favorite and it wasn’t either of them, but rather the kid down the street.

“We’ll be meeting my friend at a fundraiser, so wear something you can dance in. Maybe something upscale if she’s got it.”

“Cool,” you said. “Need anything from the room?”

You regretted it the moment you said it. Deadman and Zatanna’s eyebrows shot way up, and Constantine cringed. You realized how that sounded. They were gone for a few days, and you’d shacked up with the magician’s ex. You cringed yourself, but couldn’t undo it.

“No, luv, thanks,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

You nodded and quickly made it out to the hallway where you felt all the chills of embarrassment hit you. You wondered if he was embarrassed because the others might think he was sleeping with you. Was the thought so unbearable? You had only felt embarrassed because of the way they’d reacted, the way he’d reacted.

You tried your best to focus on finding his room, and eventually succeeded. Your closet remained, and you walked to the back to find an intense looking evening gown. You paired it with matching heels, and even found a small jewelry box to dig through. After doing your best at styling your hair and some makeup you’d found in a new drawer in the bathroom, you found your way back to the group.

The reaction you got was not what you were expecting. Constantine was smoking when you came into the room, but his cigarette fell to the floor when he laid eyes on you. He blinked and picked it up before it could burn anything, stubbing it out on the table and tossing it away. The other two stood with their mouths agape.

“What? Did I get lipstick on my teeth?” you asked, sucking at your teeth to rid them of any stray makeup.

“No,” Constantine said softly, getting up from his place on the sofa to walk over to you.

His hand slid along the line of your jaw, drawing your chin slightly towards him with his fingers. 

“You look stunning,” he breathed.

“You clean up good, girl,” Deadman laughed.

Constantine was still nearly gaping at you, and you didn’t know if that was good or not. You sort of felt like a little girl dressed up in her big sister’s clothes. 

“You should probably get on her level,” Deadman laughed. “Go get changed.”

“Right,” he nodded absently. He seemed to be thinking about something seriously, as he left the room without so much as a glance at anyone else on his way out.

“So,” Zatanna said, filling the silence. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you said, staring at your feet.

“The closet, pretty full of nice clothes and everything?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed. 

“And it’s in Constantine’s room?” she asked.

You could hear it, the unasked question in her voice.

“The house sort of wouldn’t  _ let  _ me sleep anywhere else?” you tried to explain. “She kept corralling us into his room, and we finally just gave up.”

Zatanna nodded slowly, clearly thinking through something.

“I mean we just slept,” you laughed awkwardly. “Nothing’s like, happened or anything.”

“I should let you two talk,” Deadman offered. He winked at you before floating through the walls and leaving.

Zatanna sighed and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she smiled. “I didn’t mean to come off as… It’s just we used to be… And I see the way he looks at you… And the house wants…” She sighed again and finally looked at you. “Just be careful, okay? I know it can be… intoxicating. But there are things you don’t know about him. Bad things.”

“Oh no,” you stopped her. “I don’t think he looks at me that way. It’s probably just the dress. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She gave you a pained smile.

“Just be careful,” she repeated.

Constantine walked into the room in an actual suit, and it was your turn to nearly gape at him. He was staring at you.

“Go find the damn venom so we can figure this shit out,” Zatanna ordered, snapping Constantine’s attention back to her. “We’ll keep the magic shop portal open for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said absently, his gaze falling back to you.

He cleared his throat and closed the space between you.

“This way,” he muttered. 

You almost didn’t notice that he had slipped his hand into yours as you left the room. Only as he lightly squeezed your hand did you look down and see. It felt as natural as breathing to be like that with him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. It almost seemed like there was no universe outside the house anymore. 

“My old friend Gary’s mum,” he answered. “It’s sort of my fault that he died. She still keeps his snake though.”

“So that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you guessed. “What happened?”

He cringed and stopped walking for a moment.

“You know how you said my heart was probably bronze?” he asked. You nodded. “This is maybe the lobe of my heart that’s just black.”

Zatanna’s words hung in your head. There were things you didn’t know about him. Bad things. This was one of them.

You waited for him to explain and listened intently, never letting go of his hand. He explained how he had tricked his friend into sacrificing himself. Gary had released a demon into the world that could only be defeated if it died in a host. Constantine knew his friend wouldn’t actively choose to be a hero, but he made him into one anyway. And a woman had lost her son.

“Do you think I’m a right bastard?” he asked, not quite meeting your gaze. 

“I think… you did what you had to do,” you shrugged. “I’m new to this world, I couldn’t tell you if that makes you a bastard or not. We never really know the true consequences of our actions until the end I guess.”

He looked somewhat surprised and nodded. 

“Why do you need me? Is she also a magic user?”

“Yes,” he said. “Though she doesn’t practice anymore after Gary. Doesn’t want anything to do with it. Still, I’m not convinced she won’t try to send me straight to Hell.”

You grimaced and nodded. 

“Happy to be a shield,” you offered. He smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, let’s get this over with then.”

He opened the door to what you thought would be a room, but instead revealed a street corner. It was some kind of portal, you realized. Constantine looked at you with a slight smirk, clocking your wonderment. 

“Come on, luv,” he said, tugging you gently through the portal.

You felt the sun on your skin first, and then smelled the scents in the air. It was like waking up from a coma. You’d arrived just next to a flower shop, apparently having stepped through its front door. Constantine was looking up at it.

“Might be a nice gesture,” he said, thumbing through his wallet for a few dollars. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, glad to stay out in the sunshine forever. It was a warm day, and you wondered how long it’d been since you were in the world. How long had you been gone? You looked around for a date, but couldn’t find anything. Your phone had died a while ago.

You walked up to a nice looking man on the street who was on his phone, waiting for something.

“Excuse me,” you said. “What’s the date?”

He looked up and smiled at you. He told you the date. It had only been a few days.

“You going to the opera or something?” he asked, looking at your outfit. You laughed.

“A fundraiser,” you answered.

“Well, they’ll donate their own hearts when they see you,” he said. 

You smiled. Though you wouldn't usually want the attentions of a stranger, it felt good to talk to anyone from your world again. Anyone who wasn’t wielding powers you thought only existed in movies. 

Suddenly, you felt a hand slide around your waist, and pull you possessively against him.

“Alright, luv?” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

The man you’d been speaking with dropped his smile and went back to looking at his phone. You were unsure why Constantine had done this, and looked up at him.

“Are  _ you _ ?” you laughed.

“Just fine,” he answered. “Come on, work to do.”

He gave the man one last look, and spun you around to walk back the way you came. 

“What was all that?” you asked. 

“Saving you from him, you’re welcome.”

“I hardly needed saving,” you laughed. “I just wanted to know what the date was.”

“He was coming onto you,” Constantine shrugged. “Didn’t like what he was thinking.”

“You’re telepathic now?” you teased.

“Doesn’t take a telepath to read what a guy’s thinking, luv,” he answered darkly. “Just didn’t like him looking at you like that.”

You couldn’t help but smile at this old fashioned behavior of his. 

“So we’re meeting her at this fundraiser thing?” you asked. 

“Figure she won’t murder me in front of witnesses if we meet her there. Then we can figure out how to get to her house. I’m hoping not to have to break in. Can only imagine she’d have wards on the place.”

“I think we might have to break in, considering she’s not your biggest fan,” you guessed.

“You’d be correct,” he answered. “Though I think she knows it would have ended tragically one way or another for ole Gary.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a heroin addict,” Constantine cringed. “At least this way he died a hero, albeit against his will. I think she recognizes that deep down. But on the surface, I’m still the lad who got her son killed.”

You sighed, thinking about that for a moment. The best of a horrible situation on all sides, you supposed. You walked a little further to a center where posters marked the dance-a-thon that was happening inside. From what you gathered, it was to fundraise for the rehab center in town.

You walked into a buzzing ballroom. Couples of all ages were on the floor dancing, while others got refreshments, and some rested.

Constantine led you through the crowd of people towards a larger woman in the back. She held a clipboard and a bored expression until she spotted Constantine. Her face turned dark and she closed the distance between you. 

“You’ve got some nerve, Constantine,” she spat. 

You stood partially in front of Constantine, wondering if she would try something. You hoped not, wondering if any bystanders would get hurt by the deflected magic.

“I know, Joyce,” he answered calmly. “I’m just here to help out. I heard about what you were doing. I think it’s wonderful. We’ve come to donate, and dance.”

He gave her the flowers you’d brought as she took in this information. She looked utterly surprised, and her attention turned to you. 

“This your girlfriend?” she asked.

Constantine dug through his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollars. 

“Would this be enough to dance a few hours?” he asked.

She looked at the money, and back to you. 

“It’s a start,” she said. “Go on.”

She nodded to the dance floor and Constantine took your hand. He pulled you along onto the floor, and found an open spot just as a slow song came on. He didn’t seem to hesitate, and put a hand on your lower back, the other holding your hand. You cautiously wrapped an arm around his neck and hoped your other palm wasn’t too sweaty.

You were very close to him, and forced yourself to look into his eyes. He was looking at you intently. 

“Nervous?” he asked. 

“No,” you lied. 

“Why?” he ignored you.

“I don’t know,” you admitted sheepishly. “I’ve never been good at being close to people.”

“Is it that I’m too handsome?” he teased. 

You knew he was joking, but that was actually part of it. He made you nervous for some reason. This setting, with slow music, his hand on your back, it made you want things you didn’t think you could have. Your mind kept showing you flashes of him and Zatanna, showing you all the ways you didn’t match up to her. You had to change the subject.

“Is your life always so dark?” you asked. “I mean with Gary, and everything else I’ve seen… Why do you keep at it?”

His cocky smirk dropped, having not expected the change in the conversation.

“I suppose it’s all I know by now,” he answered seriously. “And it’s not all dark all the time. We have some laughs.”

“Do you?” you asked.    
“Sure,” he answered, the smirk returning. “Sometimes we get to dance with pretty girls.”

You blushed, unsure if he meant it or was just teasing you.

“What if just for once, everything worked out?” you asked. “What would that look like for you?”

He gave a small laugh, as if you’d told him he could fly if he just believed hard enough.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that.”

“I’m asking,” you offered. “What does the dream life look like for John Constantine?”

He looked at you intensely for a moment, and it felt like everyone and everything faded away. You couldn’t even hear the music anymore.

“I suppose,” he said, shifting his body closer to yours so more of your bodies were touching. You stopped swaying, and just stood there. His hand had left yours to pull you closer, hands resting on your hips. “If I could,” he nearly whispered, leaning in. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our wonderful host would like to say a few words,” the DJ said, breaking whatever spell had been forming between you and Constantine.

You blinked and disengaged yourself from him, suddenly feeling the heat in your cheeks. He didn’t fully retract himself from you, however, and kept a hand on your lower back.

Gary’s mother took the stage and held the microphone steadily. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I know a lot of us here have been directly affected by addiction, and I hope that the money we raise tonight will be at least something to aid the fight, and keep more of our sons and daughters safe. Please, enjoy my son’s favorite song.”

You didn’t even pay attention to the song that played after she exited the stage. All you could hear was the rushing of the blood in your ears. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he would have said. Would that ideal future have included you? Did you want it to?

Joyce had handed off her mic, and made her way onto the floor over to you. 

“Constantine, watching you tonight… It made me realize that you’re not a monster. Anyone who can look at a girl like that doesn’t have a heart of stone, and I think I’d forgotten that. Listen, why don’t you come over tomorrow morning and have some breakfast, yeah?”

Constantine took a second to respond, as if caught as much off guard by the comment as you had been.

“Uh, yeah, Joyce, ta, will do.”

She nodded, spared a glance your way with a smile, and left you alone. 

“I guess that means we’re staying the night?” you guessed. 

“Yeah,” he answered, not quite looking at you, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Which is why I wish I hadn’t given her all my cash.”

“Mmm… I don’t have anything either,” you shrugged. All your stuff was back at the house.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Seems like things are clearing out here, we might as well find a place to stay. Don’t wanna go back to the house and misjudge the time difference.”

When you walked to the exit, you realized it was absolutely pouring outside. 

“I think I saw a motel down the street,” he said. “Here,” he offered, shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Take this. I reckon it’s gotten a bit colder, and rain’s not going to help.”

You smiled and took the jacket, feeling incredibly small as the sleeves ran past your hands.

“Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand. 

You took it, feeling a childish excitement for some reason. He lead you outside. He was right, it had gotten colder, and you were glad for the jacket. He was soaked almost immediately, and you could feel the water permeating the thin material of the jacket, albeit slower than his shirt.

He was right about seeing the motel down the street, and just as you started shivering, you made it inside. A young man stood behind the counter in the poorly lit lobby. 

Constantine held up a playing card to the man, and you were confused as to why, until the man reacted. 

“An assessment? But you guys usually tell us. We only have one room left,” he said. 

“That’s fine, mate, we’ll take it,” Constantine said. 

“I’m afraid there’s only one small bed in there,” he lamented. “Usually your teams require at least two separate beds. If we’d known we could have--”

“It’s fine,” he stopped the man. “We’ll, erm, jot it down in our report notes.”

The man nodded and looked around the floor.

“Do you have any bags?” he asked. 

“No, but good points for asking,” Constantine winked.

“Do you have a phone charger I could borrow?” you asked, showing him the model of your phone. 

“Sure,” he said, reaching into the desk. You gladly took it.

The man lead the two of you to the promised room. It was simple, with the usual horrible carpet and wallpaper, and indeed, a small bed. When he left you to it, you found you were still shivering.

“What was that?” you asked. 

“Enchanted card,” he said, flicking it around in front of you. “Shows the viewer whatever it is I need them to see. Thankfully no added magic needed.”

“Are there even such things as room assessments?”

“Apparently he believes it’s a possibility,” he smirked. “The illusion helps create believability if it’s needed.”

You nodded, wondering what else he’s used it for.

“You’re shivering, luv,” he said quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I could use to get out of these wet clothes.”

You could almost see his skin through his white shirt, and were a bit mesmerized by the way the fabric stuck to his skin. He started to undo his tie, and walked towards the bathroom while undoing his shirt buttons. He flung the wet shirt and tie over the shower curtain railing to dry. 

You plugged in your phone while he was doing this and it came to life with about a hundred messages from Kevin, your roommate. You were finally able to assure him that you were fine, that you’d met someone and were hanging out for a while. You warned him that you were probably going to be out of range of cell service for a while, but not to worry.

Constantine had casually followed up draping his shirt over the shower with his pants and socks, keeping his boxers on. He jumped into the bed and under the covers, putting his hands behind his head.You didn’t look at him as you followed suit. 

You let yourself go for just a moment. You could have focused on how you didn’t think this was a good idea, how it could lead to things that you might later regret - or hope that he didn’t regret - but you didn’t. Just this one time with him, you’d do what you wanted, you decided. At least, to some degree.

You’d worn a thin strapless bra and panties under the dress, and were glad you had. You laid the dress over the tub, and slipped in under the covers next to him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen this much of your body before - you’d been swimming in about the same amount of clothing. But somehow in the motel, it seemed more serious, less playful.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you made it rain,” you smirked at him, watching his cocky grin.

“If I’d tried it, I’d probably have drowned us all,” he laughed.

You knew he was joking, but the threat you caused was starting to weigh on you. If Joyce had done anything near you, who knows what could have happened. You were like magic shrapnel, it seemed.

Constantine saw your face go white with these imaginings, and turned onto his side to face you.

“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked quietly. 

“I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone… You know, like indirectly. I keep thinking about Joyce or anyone we run into that might try something magical… We don’t know how this works, I might kill someone.”

Your heart was beating too fast, and you felt like you might pass out.

“Shh,” he hushed. “Come here.”

He guided your head to his chest, and you laid just next to the scar you had caused. You traced a finger along the rough skin. It wasn’t healing too badly, despite your messy stitches.

“Listen,” he prompted.

You did. You heard the steady beating of his heart.

“Relax,” he said. 

He wrapped and arm around you, let his hand fall just above your hip. 

“If anything happens it’s not your fault.”

“You keep saying that, but--”   
“No buts,” he interrupted. “All we need to do is get that venom tomorrow, and we’ll be able to figure this all out.”

This did help relax you. At any rate, you’d be back at the house, away from unsuspecting civilians. You sighed, and came back to yourself. You realized now how close you were to him, how much of your skin was touching his skin. Somehow while you’d been listening to him, his hand had migrated from your hip to play with your hair. It was unbelievably soothing, and you closed your eyes to just feel it.

“You might not feel like it, but you’re doing incredibly well with this,” he said. You could feel the reverberations in his chest.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you laughed. 

“You’d be surprised,” he countered. “I’ve never seen anyone so accepting, so open to new concepts. I’ve seen people openly deny magic exists after seeing so much proof your head would explode. It’s almost like…” He trailed off.

“Like what?” you asked. 

“I was going to say it’s almost like you’ve been in this world before. Another life maybe,” he mused.

It was strange that he said that, because you were just thinking something similar in that moment. But not about magic. As you laid on his chest, felt his fingers in your hair, heard his heartbeat below you, you felt as if you’d known  _ him _ in another life. It sounded crazy even in your own head, but you felt it deeply now. And it scared you.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, you woke because of the light streaming through the thin curtains of the motel. Your head still rested on his chest, and for a moment, you listened to his heart. It was slow and steady. You thought he might still be asleep, but you felt him breathe deeply beneath you and stir in that moment.

“Morning,” you muttered, perching on your elbow to look at him. 

He blinked his eyes open slowly, and smiled softly. It was strange, this unguarded smile of his, tempered by sleep. But you smiled back.

“Ready to get our last ingredient?” he asked. 

You nodded, slipping out of bed and walking to the bathroom where your dry clothes laid. In the morning you felt so much more exposed than you had last night. You could feel him watching you, and while you didn’t hate it, you still couldn’t help but think what he was looking at was no magician in fishnets.

When you were both dressed, you decided to walk to her place since you had no money and it wasn’t too far. 

“You know, I’ll admit, I was going to find a way to con Joyce into giving us the venom,” Constantine admitted. “But you seemingly conned her all on your own.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. 

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“When she saw us… I mean, I knew she was a rom-com type, but I didn’t think she’d attribute that much goodness to my character by how we are together. So thanks for saving me the trouble I guess.”

You felt a stiffness in your chest. Was he suggesting that Joyce, and subsequently you, had read into the situation last night? Did he not truly look at you with kindness and maybe even tenderness?

“Oh,” was all you could muster.

“What?” he asked, sensing your distressed tone. 

You shook your head, trying to think of a reason to confess that didn’t involve how disappointed you were with the fact that nothing you’d felt last night was apparently real.

“Nothing, I just… I feel bad making someone believe something that’s not real,” you said, not meeting his gaze.

He was silent for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, assessing.

“I wouldn’t say it wasn’t real, luv,” he said. You managed to look at him, but now he was looking at the ground. “Might be just that even if it is real… it wouldn’t change that I’m a damned bastard.”

You were going to say something, ask him if he meant what you thought he meant by that, but you’d arrived at Joyce’s flat, and you couldn’t get a word in before he knocked on the door.

Joyce shuffled to the door and opened it a moment later. She invited you in. It wasn’t dissimilar to the house, and you saw similar artifacts on the walls. She lead you to the dining room where she’d prepared a breakfast for the three of you.

“Sit, sit,” she prompted, and you and Constantine obeyed.

You both ate happily for a few minutes, sharing in conversations about the weather and how the fundraiser had gone last night. Finally, as the air changed, and conversations halted, Constantine brought up what you were really there for.

“Joyce, I’m afraid I need a favor,” Constantine said. 

You saw her face fall a little, and stepped in. 

“Really I need a favor,” you said. This seemed to soften her features. “Your son had a snake?” you asked. She nodded. “See, there’s this thing that’s happening to me. It’s pretty dangerous, and we need an ingredient for a ritual to figure out what it is. We’re hoping we could steal some of your son’s snake’s venom.”

She considered this for a moment, and you remembered what Constantine had mentioned about her affinity for romance. Your hand slipped into Constantine’s and held it tightly.

“Please, it’s… It’s tearing us apart that we can’t figure this out.”

Once again her face softened, and she nodded. 

“I suppose the old girl could be useful to someone,” she said, getting up with some difficulty. “Follow me.”

Constantine cast you an impressed glance before following you and Joyce to another room. In the dimly lit bedroom, sat a cage in the corner. A huge snake was sitting inside it, watching you with intelligent eyes.

“Be my guest,” she said, gesturing to the cage.

You thought it might be more difficult, but Constantine seemed to know how to handle the snake without magic, filling the jar he’d brought with a good amount of venom. The snake didn’t seem bothered, and you were almost sure he’d done this before. You could only guess why.

“Cheers, Joyce,” he said, pocketing the venom. “You’ve saved the day.”

“Thank you,” you echoed. 

“Well, I’m just glad to have helped you,” she addressed you. 

“We should get going, luv,” Constantine said, slipping his hand into yours. It felt so natural, but you wondered if it was just to sell the romance angle still.

“Right,” you nodded. 

Joyce lead the way to the entrance, and walked you out.

“I hope you find out whatever’s wrong,” she nodded. 

“Me too,” you smiled. 

You left the house feeling both happy and anxious. At least you’d gotten the ingredient. But there was still the whole ritual to perform, and the result it would yield was so unpredictable it scared you.

“The magic shop portal isn’t far,” Constantine promised. 

He still held your hand, although you had long since left Joyce’s sight. With the impending magical uncertainty, you decided to risk asking the question that had plagued you since you set foot on Joyce’s doorstep. 

“What did you mean before?” you asked, slowing your pace. He stopped and looked at you, waiting for you to go on. “You said that we weren’t pretending about this,” you gestured to your entwined hands. “That it was real. Did you mean that?”

He looked pained, and took a breath. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Is it real for you?”

You thought about it - the way you felt when he looked at you, the closeness to his body that you craved now.

“I think it might be for me,” you admitted, barely managing to keep his gaze. “I think it could be.”

He stepped closer to you, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“I wish I could say I felt differently,” he said. “I wish I could say I didn’t feel the same.”

Your heart fluttered, but you were confused.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because it would probably save your life,” he laughed hollowly. 

“What makes you think we would end in death?” you asked. 

“‘S the way it’s always been for me.”

“Not with Zatanna,” you pointed out. He blinked, and you remembered that Deadman had told you about that, not Constantine.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he sighed. “Not our deaths anyway, but her father’s…”

“Oh,” you breathed. “What happens now?” you asked, after a long moment of silence.

“We go back, we do the ritual.”

“And then?”

“We figure out what the hell is going on.”

***

You entered an old magic shop, and Constantine merely waved to the clerk before leading you to the back of the store. He opened an old closet door, and you saw the house beyond. It looked like it was down the hall from where you’d left. You stepped through easily, and Constantine closed the door behind you.

Zatanna and Deadman rounded the stairs, and you could see Zatanna had changed clothes. You wondered how long you’d been gone, if it was only a day and a night here too.

“About time,” she said. “Any trouble?”

“No,” Constantine answered. “Surprisingly.”

This didn't seem to calm her, and instead a sense of unease grew between you. 

“Let’s get this show on the road then, eh?” Deadman asked. 

He extended his arm to you with a teasing smile and you pretended to take it and let him float beside you as you walked to the ritual room. You could hear Constantine and Zatanna whispering to each other but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy and miss Constantine’s hand in yours.

Finally you reached the room, and Constantine came to stand by your side. 

“Alright, we go in alone, I’ll do the ritual, try a simple spell, and see if it worked.”

You nodded, feeling your bones almost quake with anticipation. 

“Yell if you need anything,” Zatanna said. “We’ll be right here.”

“Why don’t we just go in with them?” Deadman suggested. 

“Someone needs to survive this is it goes south,” Zatanna answered. “The doors should hold against most magics.”

You were grateful that at least you’d have some privacy in this rather exposing ritual. Once you were both inside the room, Constantine closed the doors. A calm quiet filled the room, and you could hear your own heartbeat.

“Ready, luv?” he asked. “I’m going to mix everything together in this bowl and paint the symbols on you as an offering to the goddess of truth.”

You nodded reluctantly and followed him to the table where he laid the venom down with the other ingredients. You watched him work and were soon mesmerized by him. He was in his element here, you realized, and it was truly something to behold.

When he was done mixing things together in an ancient-looking stone bowl, he turned to you.

“Ready?” he asked, and you knew what he was asking. 

It was time for you to take off your clothes for the ritual. Bare everything, he had said. Wash away any boundaries, including physical. You were unsure if he was supposed to get naked too, as yours were the boundaries being washed away, but whether it was for solidarity or the ritual, he started to disrobe. He took off his jacket and shirt and laid them on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and then came over to you. You moved your hair out of the way and turned your back to him, silently asking for help with the dress’ zipper. You could have easily done it yourself, but you were sure your hands were shaking. He slipped the zipper down, and you let it fall from your shoulders. He’d seen you in your underwear before of course, but the way he slid his hands down your arms, held your hips, it didn’t feel like he had. It felt like this was the first time he was seeing you. You nodded over your shoulder and he unhooked your bra and let it fall to the ground. You could feel his breath on your neck and you nearly shuddered. You turned to him at last and put your hands on his chest. 

This might be your last moment together. You had absolutely no idea what would happen. He could die because of you. This ritual could kill you, for all you knew. You looked up at him, trying to convey all these thoughts without words. You searched his face and found a similar sentiment.

Just as you started rising onto your tiptoes, he leant down. You met in the middle as you kissed him. Your hands found their way into his hair and he pressed you against him, skin to skin. You wanted to live in that kiss, but it ended far too soon. You shared a look, knowing what had to be done.

You just took a moment to breathe before slipping off your panties. He removed his pants and boxers as well, and you stood together. It didn't feel as though you were bare at all. He looked at you, not examining, not taking advantage of what was required, but keeping your gaze, his eyes soft and understanding.

He took the bowl from the table and began to draw symbols on your chest, similar to the ones in the circle on the floor. He carefully turned you around to draw your back, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation despite the fear in your chest. He knelt down to draw some more on your thighs, and you kept your eyes closed, trusting him.

When he was done he stood in front of you again and placed his hands over your heart. He muttered words you didn’t know, and you saw the symbols on the floor and on your skin glow ever so slightly.

When he looked at you, he was apprehensive. At least neither of you had died yet.

“Now what?” you asked. “Test?”

“Yes,” he answered, biting his lip.

“What are you going to try?” you asked. 

“A levitation spell,” he answered, backing a ways away from you. 

He took a breath and you did the same, waiting. He muttered more ancient-sounding words, and moved his hands. You nearly screamed as he flew backwards, knocking against the wall.

You ran to him, and he sat up, dazed. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “It didn’t work.”

“What does that mean?” you asked. “I thought you said it would get rid of any spells.”

“Almost any,” he corrected you. “But the good thing is, I know the person who did this.”

“You do?” you asked, confused how this could have revealed anything.

“This ritual strips away any magic that doesn't come directly from the divine,” he said. “And I only know one person powerful enough to trap or coerce a divine entity to do this.” You waited as he collected himself enough to say, “Nick Necro.”

***

In the kitchen, you hovered around Constantine as he held a bag of ice to his head with one hand and smoked with the other. The room was quiet. You and Deadman were watching Zatanna pace back and forth across the wide room, her heels clacking on the tile.

“You know I’m right,” Constantine said wearily. You almost jumped at his voice after so much silence. 

“I know,” she answered through her teeth. “But I thought that bastard was dead.”

“You want to fill us in on some history lessons here?” Deadman asked.

Constantine sighed, lowering the ice pack. You immediately checked out the wound. It was already bruising, but somehow he hadn’t broken any skin. You brushed some hair out of the way to get a better look, and found him staring up at you, his gaze soft.

You stopped your hand in mid stroke, and stepped away, wondering if you should be near any of them at the moment. For some reason your head had started to hurt too, and all you wanted to do was lie down.

“Nick is an ex,” Zatanna said. “He and I were together for a while before we met John. Nick was the best mage in New York for a long time.”  
“Until I came around,” Constantine smirked. “Stole that title and that girl.”   
Zatanna shot him a look and you averted your eyes from everyone lest they see the jealousy and hurt.

“Anyway, bugger got power hungry and we had to put him down before he destroyed the universe. Turns out he’s a bit more resilient than we thought,” Constantine said.

“Okay, but why would he make her into a magic trampoline?” Deadman asked. “What if she never went to that magic show? You’d never know she even had this affliction.”

“What if he was the one to give me tickets?” you suggested. “We got them in the mail. I thought my roommate had won a bar trivia competition.”

“Even if he did, how would he know Zatanna would choose you in the crowd?” Constantine asked. 

Zatanna sighed and looked slightly annoyed. 

“I generally pick from the same section of seats,” she shrugged. “He’s known me for a long time. Probably figured I’d pick the pretty girl in that section.”

“You did always have a soft spot for a cute assistant,” Constantine smirked. “But then what? So she isn’t affected by magic? So what? Surely he knew we’d figure that out and when she started throwing our magic back at us, we’d stop. So then what danger does she pose?”

Zatanna bit her lip, and Deadman shook his head slightly. You couldn’t add much to that either.

“There’s one way we could find out,” Zatanna said softly.

“Summon him,” Constantine finished her thought.

“That might be what he wants,” Deadman pointed out. “Might want to get into the house for some reason. Surely he knew we’d bring her here.”

“What could be in the house of value to him?” you asked. 

“Constantine,” Zatanna said seriously. “Revenge.”

“Or any number of priceless magical artifacts hidden away in here,” Constantine pointed out.

“Or both,” you shrugged.

“So what’s our play?” Zatanna asked. 

The room was silent again as everyone thought of best scenarios. In the silence you were reminded how much your head was hurt. Maybe it was a hangover type thing from the ritual. You tried to focus, but noticed little black spots occurring in your vision so you took a seat.

“Summon him, trap him, destroy him again?” Constantine suggested.

“He’s going to expect to be caught in a trap when he comes here. Maybe he has something we don’t know about. Something like a bargaining chip or whatever he used on her in his corner. We have no idea what we’re up against,” Zatanna said.

“Not exactly like we can put spy cameras in his bathroom, luv,” Constantine countered. “We have no idea where he might be. Might be in another dimension like we are.”

Zatanna pressed her lips together. You were really trying to listen, but you had to put your head in your hands, as the pressure was increasing.

“You okay, doll?” Deadman asked, noticing your distress.

Constantine dropped his cigarette into the ashtray on the table and came to kneel before you. He peeled away your hands from your face.

“Is it supposed to feel like my head’s exploding after that ritual?” you asked. 

“No,” he answered softly, holding your hands in his. “I think it’s something else.”

“What?” you asked. 

Constantine frowned, studying your face. You tried to keep your eyes open, but the light hurt.

“Not sure,” he admitted. “Nothing good, though.”

“Why don’t you take her to lie down,” Zatanna suggested. “We’ll keep brainstorming until you come back.”

He nodded and helped you out of the chair. You felt his arm supporting you, and stood on wobbling legs. One step was all you could manage before the pain in your head started spreading to your limbs. Your legs gave out, but Constantine was quick to catch you, picking you up and holding you close. 

“What the hell is happening to her?” Zatanna asked, rushing to place a cool hand against your forehead as if checking for a temperature.

“We need to summon Nick,” Constantine said through clenched teeth. “He’s the one who did this to her. He can undo it.”

“It could be suicide,” Zatanna argued.

“Figure it out,” he said harshly, before carrying you out of the room.

The lights in the hallway seemed like streetlamps at night in a car. Whoosh, woosh, they passed as you were taken to the bedroom. He laid you on the soft bed, and turned off all the lights. This helped somewhat, but the pain was still there, in every nerve in your body.

“You’ll be okay,” Constantine said, kneeling by the bed and stroking your hair. “You have to be.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, hoping it sounded somewhat optimistic. 

You realized a moment after he spoke how soft his voice was, how fragile. 

“I’m sorry I flung you,” you muttered, half into the pillow.

He let out a breathy laugh, and you thought you heard him sniff.

“Sorry I’m the reason you’re here,” he said. “If Nick didn’t want to get in here, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Why did he choose me?” you asked.   
“I don’t know,” Constantine admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll take care of him. I promise.”

You clutched the pillow as the pain started to intensify, but still felt Constantine stroking your hair. 

“I’ll fix this,” he promised. He kissed your forehead before leaving the room to join the others.

And that’s when you passed out.

***

When you woke up, you didn’t know if you were still in bed or not. You knew you were somewhat horizontal at least, but it didn’t feel like the mattress you’d slept on. When you managed to blink your eyes open, you could see that Constantine was holding you again, but had woken you by his motions of placing you on a chair.

“There she is,” an unfamiliar voice sounded.

Looking at Constantine, you saw his gaze was serious and angry. You followed as he looked away from you to the source of that rage. In the center of the ritual room, in chains of glowing iron, was a man you’d never seen before. He looked older than Constantine, with jet black hair, and a thin frame. He was on his knees, his arms slightly outstretched, fighting the chains with minimal effort.

“You’ve seen her, now tell us what the hell you’ve done to her,” Constantine ordered.

You’d never heard such harshness in his voice.

“Does it hurt yet?” Nick asked with faux sweetness in his voice. “Does it feel like your cells are exploding from the outside in?”

You clenched your teeth together and managed to hold his gaze. 

“I’m fucking peachy,” you managed to gasp out.

Nick laughed and shook his head. 

“I’m glad my plan worked out. Though I had hoped to be far away from here when it did.”

“What are you talking about?” Constantine asked. “What have you done?”

“Oh it’s the villain monologue you’re looking for, is it?” Nick sneered. “Ah well, fine. We might as well all hear the genius before we die.”

“Die?” Deadman asked. “Hate to break it to ya, pal, but I--”

“Just shut up, Casper. We’re all going to die now that you’ve trapped me here. But I don’t care. I’ve died before, and as long as I can take you with me, I’ll do it again.”

“Explain,” Zatanna ordered.

“You know I’ve always had a way with the deities,” Nick started. “Well, summoning them against their will at least. And you’d never guess what I managed to snag. An angel of all things! Well, after a lot, and I mean _a lot_ of torture, they gave me what I wanted.”

“And that was?” Zatanna asked. 

“A spell. A divine spell. Which is why you couldn’t wash it away with this,” he said, pointing to ritual markings on the floor. “A spell to make a sort of sponge and bomb. You see, I’ve tried to kill Constantine many times,” he nearly laughed. “But my magic simply wouldn’t do it. I figured, send him a problem, he’ll bulldoze through the unknown like he always does, fill her with all his magic, maybe even some of The Great Zatanna’s as well for good measure, like a sponge. Only, the human body isn’t meant to contain magic, to just hold it in. So once you’d done enough flinging of magic at her, then... boom.” Constantine looked at you with concern riddling his features. “Throw your own magic back at you. She was supposed to explode before now though. I assume you threw every spell you knew at her, did you not?”

Constantine made a face of annoyance. Nick apparently knew him well, because that’s exactly what he’d done.

“You must be stronger than you look,” he said to you. “But I can tell you’re wearing thin by now. If you’ve held that much magic for this long, it’s going to be a bigger bomb than I intended.”

“Why her?” Constantine asked. 

“Well, I wanted to kill you,” Nick laughed hollowly. “And what better way to hurt you physically and emotionally than with your soulmate?”

Your pain momentarily ceased at those words, as if giving your mind a second to process. 

“Soulmate?” you and Constantine both said at the same time. 

“I did capture an angel,” he reminded you. “Had him look up who was met for our blonde hero here, and made sure you found your way to each other.”

You shared a look with Constantine, but Nick spoke again, and you were forced to look away.

“A little insurance to make sure he was near you when the bomb when off,” he said. “But now we’re all near her so… Whenever you’re ready,” he smiled at you.

You couldn’t breathe. You were about to kill all these people… your soulmate. You looked at Constantine again and searched his face. Your soulmate. And you were going to lose him.

You glanced to the window next to Nick. You didn’t have to take them with you, you realized. If you could just jump through that glass, into the void, at least they would be spared. At least _he_ would be spared. 

You turned to Constantine, your mind already made up. He searched your face, confused as to what you were doing. You held his face in your hands, brought his lips to yours, and felt him kiss you back. You had to pull yourself away now, or you’d never leave. 

Forcing yourself not to look back, you faced the windows. You ran the fastest you’d ever run.

“No!” you heard Constantine yell behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. 

You didn’t stop or even slow down. You launched yourself at the windows just as the pain became so blinding, you only saw white. And that was it.

***

You blinked your eyes slowly open, waiting until everything stopped being blurry around the edges, to try to sit up. A hand found your shoulder and gently pushed you back onto the soft surface you were laid upon.

You nearly cried when you saw who had touched you so softly. Constantine. He looked exhausted, and thinner than you’d remembered.

“Don’t try to get up, luv,” he said, caressing your forehead with his hand. He laughed, but you could hear the sob that threatened to escape his chest.

“What happened?” you asked. “Where am I?”

Not that you knew every room in the house, but you could just feel that you weren’t there.

“Not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” he smirked.

“What happened to you?” you asked, looking at his gaunt features. 

“Well, after you jumped out into the void and nearly exploded, a lot of things happened.”

You remembered the crashing window panes and a bright light. Your hand started to shake, and Constantine held it firmly. 

“You tried to sacrifice yourself to save all of us,” he said, shaking his head. “Like a bloody idiot.”

You laughed at his expression of regretful admiration.

“And it worked,” he added, nodding. “But Nick escaped.”

This made your blood run cold. That must be why he looked so scared. The man who was trying to kill him was out on the streets, who knew where.

“How long have I been out?” you asked. 

“A week,” he answered. “Had to hook you up to all sorts of medical mojo to keep you going.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, noticing the IV in your arm leading to a few different hanging bags. “So you’ve been looking for him? Looks like you haven’t slept in the same amount of time,” you regretted.

“No,” he laughed. “I haven’t been looking for him.”

You furrowed your brow, unsure what it was that could have been more important.

“Zatanna and Deadman have,” he sighed. “But I’ve been here,” he answered, with uncharacteristic vulnerability in his features. “With you.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. Soulmates, you remembered Nick saying.

“Do you think it’s true?” you asked, not quite meeting his gaze. “What Nick said about us being…”

“Soulmates?” Constantine finished. “I don’t know. It makes sense. And I… I think it’s true.”

“I do too,” you admitted, finally looking at him. “I feel like I’ve known you forever,” you added.

“Me too, luv,” he smiled softly. 

You heard a soft knock on the door before it opened, and an older man peeked his head through.

“I suppose you’ll be rejecting this evening’s dinner as well, Mr. C--” the man stopped mid name when he saw you were awake. “Miss (Y/L/N),” he said breathlessly, as he entered the room. Did you know this man? “Glad to see you’re back with us.”

His accent was similar to Constantine’s, but less harsh, more refined. He had a thin face and a delicate mustache. He was holding a plate with an elegant looking pasta dish on it.

“Do I know you?” you asked, feeling embarrassed in case you’d forgotten.

“No, no, I’m Alfred,” he smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but the tray,” he nodded. “Actually, perhaps now that you’re out of the woods, as they say, your friend here will finally eat something more than booze or those nasty cancer sticks?”

He eyed Constantine with a stern, fatherly, look, and tempted him with the dish. 

“I can go and fetch another fork if you’d like to share,” he added. 

“We’ll just share the fork, Alfie. Thanks,” Constantine muttered, taking the tray from him.

Alfred looked surprised at the nicety, but graciously handed over the tray and nodded. 

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Constantine, or Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

Constantine looked to you to see if you wanted anything, but you shook your head.

“That’s it, mate, cheers,” Constantine answered, his mouth already full with pasta.

You chuckled, and Alfred smiled. He nodded and bowed slightly, then left the room. After he was gone, Constantine gave the fork to you, and you started eating. Your stomach wasn’t thrilled, as it hadn’t had real food in a week, but you ate anyway, taking turns with Constantine, who looked like he needed it more than you.

When you’d finished the plate, he helped you rid yourself of your IVs. He helped you to stand, and walked you to a large closet, similar to the one in the house.

“Where are we?” you asked again.

“It’s easier if I just show you,” he answered, nodding to the closet.

It was filled with clothes just your size, and you chose something comfortable to wear. Constantine took your hand and lead you outside through an extremely long hallway, and some kind of extravagant foyer. You walked together down a long driveway, and distant memories of newscasts and newspaper photos came to mind. It wasn’t until you saw the gates that you realized where you were.

Wayne Manor.

You didn’t even know what to say. The billionaire from Gotham? What did he have to do with any of this? Why were you staying in his house? You vaguely remembered he had a butler, but you hadn’t remembered his name or what he looked like. But you just met him, you guessed.

“Bruce Wayne?” you asked. “Why the hell are we here?”

“Because when he escaped, Nick chose the portal that lead to Gotham. And Bruce is… a friend. We needed help when you were… not well,” he added. “The curse burned off when you, erm, exploded, and I managed to heal your injuries with magic, but we needed more. Bruce had the supplies and the personnel.”

“How do you know Bruce? Oh my god is he actually like super shady?” you asked with some amount of glee.

“Unfortunately not,” Constantine laughed. “But he does have a darker side, you could say.”

You didn’t believe him until he made Alfred bring you down to the Batcave.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking at the ridiculous computer displays and tech lining the walls of the underground lair. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks,” you heard an unfamiliar voice echo.

“Always with the bloody dramatic entrances,” Constantine rolled his eyes as Bruce descended the stairs.

He was taller in person than he seemed on the news. You’d seen him giving to charities and speaking out against violence in this crime-ridden city. But in the flesh, he was something else. You came up to just about his chest which was broader than you’d even imagined. He was wearing a suit, but you could see the muscle definition beneath the tight-fitting clothes. He wore a welcoming smile on his face, but you wondered how many people knew about this. If he had wanted you to know, without even knowing you. 

“I should be thanking _you_ ,” you blushed, holding out your hand. “I’m--”

“Oh I know who you are,” he laughed. “I’ve heard all about you for a week.”

“Oh,” you muttered. “Thanks for, erm, taking care of me.”

“Thanks for not killing my friends,” he smirked. 

“Aye, we’re not friends,” Constantine said, lighting a cigarette.

“I was talking about Zatanna and Deadman,” he answered with a wink at you.

“So you’re helping find Nick?” you guessed. 

He nodded and lead you and Constantine over to a large computer. 

“After a lot of mystical happenings, I had my team design magic detectors. We might be able to find him that way if we’re lucky.”

“So far, he’s gone dark,” Constantine noted. 

“Something tells me he’s not going to give up his mission to kill you,” you frowned.

“No,” Constantine agreed. 

“You should be safe here for the time being,” Bruce assured you. “Zatanna put enough wards on this house to keep out a god.”

Constantine didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything.

“Now that your beloved is awake, would you mind doing us all a favor and take a shower?” Bruce smirked. 

You chuckled lowly, but knew you were probably in a similar state. Constantine rolled his eyes.

“Just so you know, I’m gonna use all your fanciest shit,” Constantine said, passing by Bruce.

You followed him back into the mansion, and Bruce stood beside you. Constantine looked at you as if he were going off to war, but eventually he leaned in, kissed your forehead, and walked off down the hall. 

“I should probably do the same,” you noted. “But I’ll wait till he gets out.”

“There are ten showers and tubs in this house,” Bruce pointed out.

“Oh,” you laughed, not used to having more than one bathroom. “Right, of course.”

“Would you like me to lead you to the finest one?”

“Um, any will do,” you smiled. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he nodded. 

There was something about him that you liked. He was kind, you realized, and gentle. It was surprising of course, given his nighttime activities, but all the same, you saw that in him, and liked him for it. You walked with him, starting up a long staircase.

“Constantine mentioned that you two are, erm, soulmates?” Bruce asked.

You nodded and shrugged. 

“That’s what Nick claimed the angel said.”

“Must be nice to know,” he commented. 

“Do you think you have one?” you asked, curious. 

“I think I might have two,” he smirked. “One for me, and one for _him_.”

“Do you know who they are?” you asked. 

“I think I do,” he admitted. “But you never really know, I guess.”

“Who’s yours?” you asked. 

“She’s not unlike Constantine, actually,” he laughed. “I guess we both have a thing for those who walk that thin line between good and…”

“Self interest?” you jested. He nodded. 

“I suppose that’s what it is.”

“And the other? _His_?”

“Walks the line of evil and crazy,” he gave a sad smile.

“You know it’s funny, I haven’t known him for long. I don’t know how I should feel. It feels like my choice has been taken away, you know? Knowing you’re _meant_ to be with someone.”

“Sometimes I think we have too many choices,” Bruce said. “Maybe taking one off your plate isn’t such a bad thing.”

You’d made it to a large door, and stood in front of it.

“For what it’s worth, there are worse guys that could have been your soulmate,” Bruce said seriously. “He might be a little rough around the edges, but he’ll fight for you till he dies, and maybe even after. You don’t find a lot of men like that.”

“Maybe he and you are more alike than you think,” you smiled. “Thanks for taking us in. I know you’re putting yourself at risk. That’s not a sacrifice lost on me.” 

Bruce watched you for a moment with a quiet intelligence. You wondered if many people saw this part of him, or if they all just thought he was a rich playboy.

He pushed the heavy door open to reveal a large bathroom. The floor seemed to be made of marble with matching countertops. The shower was a large, glass enclosed square with a few different shower heads on the ceiling and sides.

“Enjoy,” he smiled softly. “I’ll have Alfred leave some new clothes by the door.

Although you’d just changed, you realized your clothes probably already smelled like you, and you nodded your thanks. The shower was easily the best you’d ever had in your life, and you never wanted to leave it. Forcing yourself out of it, you grabbed the clothes Alfred had laid out for you, and changed. They were just as comfortable as you expected, and despite coming out of a week long coma, all you wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.

The thought of sleeping with that maniac on the loose, however, seemed both ill advised and physically impossible. Instead, you tried to remember your way back to the place where Constantine had left you and Bruce, thinking you might find them there. Instead, you found Alfred somewhere in between. 

“Looking for your friends, Miss?” he asked.

“Yes,” you admitted. “I think I’m lost.”

“It is a large house,” he nodded, extending his arm to you. You took it and walked with him. “You must be quite the lady,” he noted.

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“Everytime Mr. Constantine is here, all he does is make the whole house smell like smoke, and eat us out of house and home,” he laughed. “This time, all he did was stay by your side, barely sleeping or eating. I would have been sure such a woman must have an enchantment over him, if I didn’t know your story,” he smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shook your head. “He’s probably just worried about Nick.”

“My dear, the only one he has been worried about is you. And that is quite a change from the only other person he’s ever thought about so intensely.”

“Zatanna?” you guessed.

“Himself,” Alfred answered.

You couldn’t quite hide your smile as you were brought into the kitchen where Bruce and Constantine had met up.

“I’m not sure he won’t eat you out of house and home now that I’m awake,” you whispered to Alfred. “Sorry.”

Alfred laughed and let go of your arm. Constantine crossed the room swiftly to you and pulled you into a hug. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Bruce asked. 

“Nothing,” you answered, breaking the hug to look up lovingly at Constantine.

He kissed you gently. For a moment, you were the only two in the room, but you heard Bruce speak, and it broke the spell.

“Still hungry?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you nodded. 

“Constantine’s broken into our cheese collection, we might as well enjoy it. There’s some wine too if you’re up for it.”

“Can I stay here forever?” you laughed, digging into the cheese and taking the proffered glass of wine.

Constantine stood behind you with his hands on your hips, chest nearly glued to your back, while you ate. You could feel the possessive hold on you whenever Bruce looked your way, and you laughed internally. Even knowing you were soulmates, he was still jealous.

Bruce finished up his small plate of cheese and wiped his hands on a napkin. 

“I should get going,” he announced. “Going to sweep the streets, visit some of the more known magic hangouts. See if I get lucky.”

“Be careful, please,” you said, reaching out to him as he passed.

He paused, seemingly not expecting the touch, and looked at you fondly.

“Always,” he nodded.

He left with a nod to Alfred as well, leaving the three of you alone in the kitchen. You turned to face Constantine, worried. 

“I feel so useless,” you frowned.

“The best place for us to be is not in danger,” he promised, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I just feel so antsy,” you squirmed.

He thought for a moment, and then walked over to Alfred. He whispered something in his ear, and Alfred smiled. He nodded and left the room. 

“What was that about?” you asked.

“You’ll see soon,” Constantine smirked.

You narrowed your eyes and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay, luv,” he said softly, closing the distance between you. “Not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up.”

“By the looks of it, probably starved to death,” you frowned. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he admitted. “Couldn’t think about doing anything but being with you, making sure I was there when you woke up.”

You ran your hands over his gaunt cheeks and sighed.

“If anything happens, please--”

“Don’t,” he stopped you. “Don’t say anything else.”

You were quiet for a moment and just looked at him.

“Will you eat more, please?” you asked. “I’d rather not kiss a gargoyle.”

He smirked and leaned in close. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, his lips brushing close by.

“Yes,” you answered, laughing, pushing him away and towards the cheese.

“It’s ready, sir,” Alfred said, poking his head around the doorway to the kitchen.

“Cheers,” Constantine smiled. He extended his hand to you and wiggled his fingers. “Ready for the surprise?” he asked. 

You tried to suppress a grin, but failed, taking his hand. He lead you around to the back of the house, and down a well-groomed path. You soon reached a large greenhouse, and once you were inside, you audibly gasped.

It was huge. Plants were on the ground, in the air, and on the walls. There were stringed lights hung everywhere, making the room glow. A few butterflies floated from flower to vibrant flower, and you stood frozen, watching them. It took you a few moments to even notice the white patio furniture covered with food and booze.

“How did Alfred do this in so little time?” you asked. 

“Practice,” he answered. You wondered what other women had enjoyed a night here with Bruce, and laughed.

“It’s beautiful,” you marveled. “How did they get so much life in here?”

“Swamp Thing helped us out,” he smiled. 

“One day you’re really going to have to tell me about him,” you laughed.

Constantine pulled your chair out for you, and you cast him a strange glance.

“What?” he asked. 

“Not very on brand for you,” you pointed at the chair. 

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he answered.

You sat down as he pushed the chair in, and chuckled. 

“You know, you don't have to try this hard,” you said. “I’d have gone for a good couch snuggle and some whiskey.”

“And that’s why I love you,” he shrugged, loading his plate with food. He froze when he heard what he’d said, and looked at you. “Erm, I mean, I… Sorry if that’s--”

You’d never seen him so flustered, and you blushed. “I know we kind of got thrown into _knowing_ ,” he said. “And I wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to just ignore the whole thing and find some other bloke.”

He looked truly miserable at the thought, and your heart broke. 

“No, I mean, I…” you started. “I love you too,” you laughed. And I’m glad that we know,” you answered, reaching out for his hand across the table. “Makes me feel like I’m not crazy for feeling this way.”

“I wonder how we would have met if not for Nick,” Constantine mused. “Assuming all soulmates meet at some point.”

You smiled, imagining different scenarios.

“Maybe he was our fate,” you suggested. “I think the house knew,” you noted.

“Probably,” Constantine nodded. 

“She kept trying to shove us into the same room,” you laughed. “And she succeeded.” You froze suddenly, realizing you’d broken her windows when you jumped. “Oh my gods, do you thinks she’s going to be mad at me for breaking her windows?” you asked. Constantine chuckled.

“I think she’ll be grateful you didn’t blow the whole house,” he answered.

You sighed in relief.

“Speaking of which, you can do magic now, around me, right?” you asked.

He face brightened and in response to your question, he conjured a small ball of flame, held it in his palm, and then dissipated it. You beamed.

“Feels good,” he admitted, looking at his hands.

You got up from the table and walked over to him, gently sitting on his lap.

“So, you gonna start teaching me some stuff?” you asked. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe some defensive stuff just in case…”

You took a deep breath, hoping you wouldn’t come in contact with Nick before he was subdued. You unconsciously ran your fingers through Constantine’s hair while you thought about it and he hummed happily.

“If it’s all the same to you, luv, could we leave the lessons for tomorrow? I haven’t exactly been getting my eight hours or eating my wheaties lately.”

You kissed the top of his head and nodded. 

“Of course,” you said. You made to get off his lap, but he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you there.

“I could get used to this,” he said, looking up at you with dreamy eyes.

You smiled and kissed him.

“Good,” you responded. “Do you think the gang’s going to have any luck finding him tonight?” you asked absently.

“I think Nick is very good at hiding,” Constantine muttered. “I should be out there looking too.”

“I’m glad you’re not,” you whispered.

“I’d rather protect you,” he said. “I have a feeling even though the spell he put on you’s gone, his intentions of hurting me through you are not.”

This made your bones cold and you shuddered. You were just a tool to be used against him now. Even if you pretended not to care for each other, he knew, by divine knowledge, that that wasn’t true.

“Look at me,” Constantine pleaded. You did as he asked, worried by the intensity in his eyes. “I will _never_ let anything happen to you.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath. 

“Do you hear me? Nothing,” he repeated. 

“I hear you,” you smiled softly. “But listen, if something happens, it’s not your fau--”

He cut you off with a kiss, and pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t even talk like that, please, luv.”

The funny thing was, you weren’t too concerned if anything happened to you. Sure, you didn’t want to be injured, or worse, but that wasn’t what bothered you of that scenario. What bothered you was that Constantine would think it was his fault, and he would punish himself for it.

You stood, bringing Constantine along by the hand. 

“Should we turn in?” you asked, feeling sleepy despite your only recent consciousness.

He stepped closer to you, hovering.

“We could,” he kissed you. “Or…”

You kissed back, suddenly feeling very much alive, and not sleepy at all. 

“Where’s your room?” you asked.

He lead you hastily down the empty halls, and into a pristine room. You were surprised that it was in such a nice condition, but you realized he’d spent all his time by your bed, and not in the room.

He pushed you gently against the door as it closed, and kissed you. Your body responded to him with equal vigor. He was gentler than you thought he’d be, but he needn’t have worried. He seemed to fit inside you as perfectly as a missing puzzle piece. He watched you carefully, asking you through all the breaths and mumblings if everything was okay with you. You had no objections, and neither did he, as you both came together.

He held you, still catching his breath. You felt his skin on your skin, and not for the first time, reveled in the feeling. He held you tightly, as if you might turn to smoke and slip through his fingers at any moment. You tried your hardest to promise yourself that this would last. That nothing would happen to you. Or to him.


	7. Chapter 7

“Nick must know we’re hiding out with Batman, no?” you asked Constantine over the breakfast that Alfred prepared you in the main dining room.

“He doesn’t know what Batman’s identity is,” Constantine smirked. “Never told him.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling relieved. “Well, that’s our one advantage I guess.”

“Speak of the bat,” Constantine muttered, as Bruce walked into the room. 

He looked tired, but smiled at you as he took a seat beside you.

“Morning,” he greeted, nodding his thanks to Alfred who brought him his coffee.

“Fun night on the town?” Constantine asked. 

“Not really,” Bruce frowned. “Nothing new.”

Zatanna and Deadman entered, sitting on the other side of the table from you with Constantine.

“We hit dead ends too,” Deadman said.

“He’s probably resting up, trying to find something that’ll help him,” Zatanna suggested. “But none of the magical artifacts dealers I know have seen him.”

“Maybe we’re not the only ones with friends in Gotham,” Constantine suggested. “Could be hiding out with a friend, having the friend go around for him.”

Zatanna tapped her fingers absently on the table then stood up suddenly.

“Can I talk with you for a second?” she asked you. 

You were surprised, but nodded, making your body follow her out into the hallway.

“What’s up?” you asked nervously. 

You hadn’t really talked to her since the whole soulmate reveal, and you were starting to feel a little awkward about it. You had no idea how she was feeling, if she’d hate you, or maybe pity you. It was one thing to see her ex casually into someone but another to know they belonged together.

“I want to offer up an idea, but I know he’s not going to go for it,” she said, almost like she was pitching you a business idea.

“Okay…” you said cautiously. 

“Nick wanted to use you to hurt Constantine last time around, and I don’t think that’s changed.” You nodded, agreeing. “So, why don’t we lure him out of the woodwork with some bait.”   
It took a moment, but you registered that you were the bait.

“Nick will try to get a hold of you to use against John, but we’ll snag him before he can.”

You swallowed, understanding why Constantine would have a hard time with this plan. You weren’t exactly warm to it yourself. She noticed your hesitancy and stepped forward, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“I know it’s risky, but I really think it’s the best plan,” she said. “But I know he won’t go for it unless you convince him. You know, use your soulmate mojo or whatever,” she smiled sadly. 

“I know we haven’t really talked since we found out,” you said. “I just wanted to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Zatanna promised. “I always wondered why it didn't work out between us, and now I know. It wasn’t anything the matter with me or him, just wasn’t meant to be. It’s kinda comforting actually.”

You sighed in relief, but didn’t feel that relief for long. The idea of being bait made your stomach churn. You didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“I don't think I’ll be able to convince him,” you lamented. 

“Try,” she asked. “I’m afraid the longer we leave Nick out there, the stronger he’ll get.”

You bit your lip in thought for a few moments before reluctantly nodding. Zatanna didn’t smile, though you could tell she was pleased she’d convinced you. But you were hardly the hardest mind to turn in the room that you re-entered with her.

Constantine’s eyes were immediately on you, flickering now and then to Zatanna as you both resumed your places at the table.    
“We’re not using her as bait,” Constantine said through clenched teeth.

You shot Zatanna a glance, but she just rolled her eyes. 

“I thought I told you not to use that eavesdropping spell anymore.”

Instead of taking your place in your chair, you rounded the table to sit in Constantine’s lap. You could feel him relax almost instantly as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

“Didn’t have to,” he muttered. “It’s what I would have suggested if it wasn’t  _ her. _ ”

“It does seem like the best option,” you said quietly. 

Constantine looked up at you as if you’d betrayed him. 

“No,” he answered sternly. “We’re not risking you.”

“Zatanna has a point,” Bruce pointed out. “We lure him to us, on our turf.”

“He’ll know it’s a trap,” Constantine dismissed happily. “He won’t come.”

“He will,” Zatanna said. “If Bruce holds an event and we show her as one of the featured guests, he’ll come. He’ll think that it’ll be easy to slip into a large crowd, and even easier to slip out.”

“And he’d be right,” Constantine laughed bitterly.

“Not if we keep her surrounded at all times. I know most of the wealthy patrons that will attend. We just keep an eye out for anyone I don’t recognize. Then we take him to Arkham. I’ve had Lucius design a prison that’s held more powerful magical beings than him.”

Constantine bit his lip while considering this option. You realized you both did that when you were thinking hard, and you had to suppress a smile.

“No,” he decided. 

“John,” Zatanna said. “This is the best option. We can’t wait while he rounds up the best mages and magical artifacts in Gotham and throws them at us.”

“I’d hate to think what he’s already done in the week we’ve been here,” Deadman said. “And speaking of, we’ve been here a week and we’re not any closer to finding him. This isn’t just our best option, it’s our only option.”

Constantine looked at you, ignoring the others for a moment. 

“What do you think?” he asked. “Really?” He narrowed his eyes, expecting only honesty.

“I’m scared,” you nodded. “But I’d rather set a trap than live with an ax hanging over my head.”

He took a moment to consider this and then nodded very slightly. 

“I’ll call the press,” Bruce said, standing immediately. “We’ll set the charity fundraiser for tomorrow. (Y/N), I’ll need you to be in the press conference this afternoon to announce it.”

You nodded, and Bruce left the room. Zatanna and Deadman followed him shortly after, leaving you and Constantine alone.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he said quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. 

“I know,” you answered, kissing his forehead.

“Let me teach you some of those lessons now,” he said, moving to get up and sliding you off of his lap.

“Now now?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

He lead you back to the bedroom you were sharing, and began to teach you the very basics of self defense magic. It was hard, using your hands in ways you hadn’t before, and speaking foreign tongues correctly, but you managed to create a small shield, and push over an empty beer can.

“I wish we had more time,” you muttered, watching as your magic shield flickered and died.

You felt exhausted. At first it had been exhilarating, like trying a new drug. But now you were coming down, and all you wanted to do was pass out. You couldn’t though, because the press would be at the mansion in an hour, and you had to look somewhat presentable. 

The story Bruce was going with was that you had come to him and inspired him with your story to raise funds for the homeless people of Gotham. You hoped that even if something disastrous happened, at least those in need might still benefit from it. And you felt like something bad was going to happen, in your bones. Though you didn’t let Constantine think that.

Once you were dressed, you followed Bruce outside and waited patiently beside him while he answered all of the press’ questions. Constantine stood just out of the frame of the cameras, watching you carefully. It made his skin crawl to have you outside the mansion, outside the main wards guarding you, but it was only for a few minutes, and then you were shuffled back inside.

The response to the press outreach was almost instantaneous. Only Bruce Wayne could throw a last minute fundraiser and have such a huge response. You were glad it was going to be crowded. It might be easier for Nick to hide, but you’d have the same advantage. Plus, you had a whole team of people ready to protect you.

While you were getting ready for bed that evening, you heard a knock on the door. You threw a confused look at Constantine who shrugged and told the knocker to come in. 

“Excuse me for the late hour intrusion,” Alfred said. “But Master Bruce wanted me to deliver your garments to you to ensure everything fits, lest I should have to make some adjustments.”

“Is there anything you can’t do, Alfred?” you smiled, impressed by his multitude of talents.

“I don’t believe I could look as stunning as you will in this dress, Miss,” he responded, handing you your garment bag.

“Aye, stop chatting up my bird,” Constantine chided playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist with one hand as he took the garment bags with the other.

Alfred chuckled softly and nodded his goodbyes before leaving. Constantine seemed to have the traditional black tux, but you were both blown away by what Bruce had provided you with.    
“Does he want you to be a bloody beacon?” Constantine asked, running his hands over the gold fabric that seemed to glow.

“You’d notice that being drawn through a crowd,” you noted. “Harder to steal a flashing beacon.”

“You might be flashing,” Constantine laughed, looking at the plunging neckline. You blushed. 

“Help me try it on?” you asked shyly.

His eyes flickered with something playful, and he nodded. You started to disrobe down to your underwear, and realized you’d have to take off your bra for this dress. As you did so, Constantine nearly dropped the dress. 

He’d seen you naked a few times now, but apparently every time was like the first time, and you chuckled at his awe struck face.

“The dress?” you asked. 

“Right,” he answered distractedly. He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between you. “Just one thing first,” he muttered, before flinging the dress onto the bed and cradling your face with his hands, guiding your lips to his.

He held you firmly against him, exploring your body feverishly with his hands. And just as quickly as he’d clutched you to him, he threw you backwards, onto the bed next to the dress. You laughed in shock at the sudden change and watched as he hovered near you almost predatorily. 

You thought he would lay himself on top of you, kiss you, but he slid your panties off to the floor, and knelt beside the bed. He gently pushed your legs open with his hands and moved between your thighs. As you clutched the bed sheets, he went down on you, seemingly reading the way you squirmed and moaned beneath him to tell him what worked best for you. You felt his moans reverberate through you as he took care of himself at the same time.

“Fuck,” you muttered after you came down from the high.

Constantine stood, putting his pants back on and smiled proudly.

“If I try the dress on, you promise you won’t rip it off?” you teased, retrieving your panties from the floor. 

“I cannot promise any such thing,” he smiled devilishly and pulled you off of the bed and to his chest. 

He kissed you gently now, and you melted into him. You weren’t sure what you would have imagined your soulmate would look like before this, but now you couldn’t picture anyone else.

He helped you into the dress, and you both stood in front of the floor length mirror. It was the most stunning thing you’d ever worn, or even seen anyone wear. The gold fabric hugged every curve perfectly and the train made you feel like a bride. 

“It fits,” you joked, looking at Constantine’s gaping face.

“That’s an understatement,” he breathed, kissing your neck. 

“Go try on your suit,” you motioned. 

He changed and stood with you in the mirror.

“Do you think Bruce measured us in our sleep?” you asked, half joking.

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Constantine smirked. You saw his face fall and you knew exactly what he was thinking. 

“It’ll be fine,” you promised, turning to him and placing your hands on his chest.

“You’re a fortune teller now, are you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, I just trust your friends,” you said. 

“They’re our friends now, luv,” he pointed out. “Supposing you’re still going to stick around after all of this.”   
His expression looked cocky, like he was joking, but you could see the small tinge of doubt in the corners of his eyes.

“I haven’t packed my bags,” you promised. “If you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

“Oh, I’ll have you,” he grinned as he swept you off your feet and onto the bed. 

“We should really get some rest,” you giggled. “And not ruin this dress.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded, starting to take off the tux. He helped you lay out the dress and you both snuggled into bed naked. You lay on his chest just as you had not so long ago. His scar was healed now that he was able to do magic again, but there was still a thin line he couldn’t get rid of. You ran your finger over it now, hoping you’d never hurt his heart again.


	8. Chapter 8

You’d spent the morning wearing down a small path in Bruce’s expensive-looking rug in your room. Alfred had come by with a tray for breakfast, but you ate sparingly. Your stomach couldn’t bear the thought of food at this moment. Constantine lay in bed, watching you pace. You thought it calmed him, strangely, just watching you.

“I thought you were the one who promised this was going to be fine,” Constantine teased lightly.

You shot him a look. 

“It will be,” you said. 

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“Why aren’t you?”

He laughed, and got off the bed to stop you in your tracks. 

“I am,” he said. “I’m just better at lying about what I’m feeling than you are.”

“Then how do I know you even love me?” you countered, half joking.

He smiled cockily and kissed you passionately. You could feel it in there, his love for you.

“Oh,” you breathed when he broke the kiss. “Yes, well.”

He laughed at your flustered expression and looked at his watch. 

“We should probably meet up with the others,” he noted. 

You had planned to meet to talk about strategy. This at least might give you some peace of mind, you realized, so you happily followed Constantine to the main dining room where the others were gathered over an impressive lunch spread. 

As you’d walked through the hallways, you’d had to dodge caterers and decorators alike. You’d imagined they’d been here since early this morning. It was amazing what money could do to get things done in a ridiculously short time.

Zatanna, Deadman, and Bruce were sitting at the table, and you and Constantine joined them. 

“We were just discussing possibilities,” Bruce offered after you’d settled in. “Zatanna was suggesting we call in a few favors, maybe get the Justice League to help out.”

You blinked in shock. Surely you weren’t worth guarding that heavily?

“But unfortunately, they’re off-world, fighting their own battles. I might be able to persuade Catwoman to help us for the night, but I can’t promise.”

“We’ll be fine on our own,” Constantine said. “We just have to be smart about it.”

“He could look like anyone,” Zatanna sighed. “If I were him, I’d definitely use a glamor.”

You gathered from context that it must be an appearance changing spell. This changed the game for you, you hadn’t even thought of that. He suddenly seemed a hundred times more dangerous. 

“I know I said to keep an eye out for anyone we don’t recognize, but I suppose we now need to keep an eye out for everyone then,” Bruce mused. “Anyone that shows an interest in her specifically anyway. Do you think he’d risk exposure?” Bruce asked. “Of magic or himself if he could help it?”

“He doesn’t give a shit what happens to him,” Constantine said grimly. “When he made her into a bomb, he was ready to go down with the ship if it meant killing me.”

Bruce nodded, unflinching. Apparently this kind of villain wasn’t unknown to him.

“Alright,” Bruce said decidedly. I think our priority should be to protect her. If he can’t get to her, he can’t get to Constantine. At least not the way he wants.”

“So be on the lookout for literally anyone,” Deadman said dryly. “Great.”

“Anyone that shows an interest in her,” Constantine nodded. 

“Sir, if I may, given the dress she’ll be wearing, I’d think many people might show interest,” Alfred added from his station by the door. 

“We’ll just have to let them know that she’s taken. Anyone that pesters me to get to her will be dealt with,” Constantine promised.

“I’m not sure it’s wise to put our best fisherman next to the bait,” Zatanna warned. “If you get caught up in something, I’d rather have you as a sniper type. It’s easier to dive into a situation than fight your way out.”

“She’s got a point,” Deadman agreed. “Might be best if you remain hidden, maybe wear a glamor yourself, be able to sneak up on him.”

Constantine took a deep breath and nodded slowly, considering the options. You knew he wanted to be near you the whole time, but he also wanted the best tactical plan.

“I’ll be next to her all night,” Bruce promised. “I’ll make sure no one gets near her.”

Constantine and Bruce shared a look then that you couldn’t quite understand, but after a long moment, Constantine nodded.

“If you look away from her for even a moment, Bane won’t have been the only one to break your back, you understand?”

You laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. 

“I understand,” Bruce said, with a hint of a smile for some reason.

You were thankful he didn’t care about the threat, but couldn’t help but wonder why. Perhaps along with his many fighting techniques, he also learned an absurd amount of grace.

“Thank you,” you said for both of you. 

He knew what you meant. Thank you for understanding that this is ripping my soulmate apart. Thank you for promising my safety when I have nothing to offer you in return. The group was silent for a moment, and you heard the general hum of activity now through the doors. It was getting closer to the time the guests would be arriving, and you all naturally stood at the same time. 

“Best get ready,” Bruce said. 

“What’re you going to do?” you asked Deadman, realizing he couldn’t really get ready. 

He smiled grimly. 

“Bruce has procured me a braindead patient from Gotham General to possess for the evening,” he nodded. “Quite the handsome fellow,” he said. 

“I hope you get to have some fun with it,” you offered, feeling strange. You’d never been in this situation before. Was this a good thing that he got to possess someone? You didn’t know the etiquette. 

“Not too much fun,” Constantine warned. “If all else fails, you possess the fuck out of Nick until we get him contained.”   
“Yeah yeah,” Deadman nodded. “I know the drill by now.”

You could tell by the way he said that, that they’d worked together before. They all must have, as that wasn’t even mentioned in the strategy. Just assumed, you guessed. You wanted to ask about it, but now wasn’t the time. Now you had to get ready. 

As you walked with Constantine back to your room, you wanted to try to lighten the mood a little. 

“So, I’m Bruce’s date this evening,” you teased. “Jealous?”

He scoffed, and you got the smile you’d been trying for.

“I’m jealous of any man that you even look at,” he admitted. “But I think I’ll survive.”

You entered the room, and he closed the door behind him. It was stiflingly quiet as you got ready. It felt more like you were heading to a funeral thank a fundraising gala. You put on the dress and did your hair and makeup while Constantine fiddled with the bowtie he’d been given.

You finished getting ready and came out of the bathroom, standing in a pose next to the door. 

“I’m ready for my closeup,” you said. 

He smiled fondly at you. You expected him to try to ravish you the same way he had last night, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked over to you and held your hands, holding them, as if trying to memorize the way they felt.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. Somehow you managed to switch off which of you was anxious at a time, you realized. Now it was your turn to be the comforting one. He nodded but you could tell he didn’t mean it.

There was a knock on the door that you knew to be Alfred coming to collect you. You and Constantine walked to the door, and opened it. Alfred beamed at the two of you.

“Oh my, Miss, you look… Stunning,” was all he could say. His eyes fell to Constantine. “And you managed not to stain your jacket yet. I’m impressed,” he smirked. 

Constantine barely looked at him. His eyes were still on you, filled with worry. 

“Come along,” Alfred said quietly when he didn’t respond.

You followed him down many hallways until you found Bruce waiting outside of a door.

“Mr. Constantine,” Alfred said, before Constantine made to follow you through to where the event was being held. He motioned to his face and Constantine sighed. He did the glamor, and you nearly laughed. He’d imitated your roommate, Kevin. 

“Good likeness,” you noted.

“I figured it should be someone you’d recognize in a crowd,” he said. 

“Good thinking,” you smiled, and kissed his cheek before Bruce lead you away.

You tried not to look at his face, his features dropping into a look that made it seem like this was the last time he’d ever see you. Instead, you focused on Bruce’s arm in yours, likely to stay that way throughout the night.

After a quick speech in front of an already full ballroom, the party commenced. The amount of people that had shown up to the last minute event was astounding. You wondered how many of them wanted to schmooze with Bruce instead of actually support the cause. 

It was nearly shoulder to shoulder in some areas of the room, but the dancefloor had a few spots open. A quartet was playing lovely music that people both danced and just stood listening to. The wait staff and the caterers all seemed to be assuring that everyone was well-fed and kept with a drink in hand. You and Bruce both waved your drinks away.

Photographers were doing their best not to get in the way, but they documented the event well, and you wondered what people would think back where you lived if they ever happened to see the photos.

Many people approached Bruce, but none seemed at all interested in you. This was great, as it gave you the opportunity to scan the crowd. You searched the unfamiliar faces, looking for anyone keeping a close eye on you. You didn’t notice anyone, or feel eyes on the back of your neck. Still, your anxiety was only rising with the lack of appearance from Nick. 

“Can we get a few photos of you and the lady dancing?” a photographer asked. 

Bruce arched a brow, silently asking what you wanted to do. You shrugged. He lead the way to the dance floor and swept you into a dance. It wasn’t quite a waltz, but you followed his lead the best you could. 

“How are you doing?” he asked quietly. 

“Anxious,” you replied. “I keep waiting for a jump scare.”

He nodded, scanning the room as you danced. You noticed Constantine in Kevin’s face, watching you from one of the grand staircases. He was gripping the railing as if holding on for dear life. You chuckled slightly at this. Bruce questioned what you’d laughed at and you told him where to look. 

“Jealous baby,” you laughed. 

“You know it’s funny, when I first met you, I was surprised to hear that you belonged together,” Bruce admitted.

“Oh?” you asked. 

“Well, my relationships have almost always been with women who are similar to me. So when I saw the two of you, how different you are, I didn’t understand. But I think I do now.”

You spun around and around with him easily, catching glimpses of Constantine every now and again. 

“I think you complete him,” he said. “As trite as it sounds. Whatever he lacks, you make up for.”

“And vice versa,” you added. 

“I’m not sure you’re lacking in anything,” Bruce smiled wryly. “But he needs you to be the calm to his storm, the reason to his gut instinct.”

You smiled softly, nodding. 

“I need him too,” you promised. “More than I thought I could need anyone.” You studied Bruce’s face for a moment and steadied yourself to say what you needed to. “If something happens to me, please try to help him.”

It came out more as a tight whisper, but Bruce heard you. He clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment at the man gripping the railing. 

“I will,” he promised, looking into your eyes. 

The song finished, and you could only imagine what photos had been taken. You had smiled during the talk at first at least, but towards the end it might have looked as though you were discussing a death.

A child ran up to Bruce then, wearing a tiny tux. He looked adorable, but you threw a questioning glance at Bruce. 

“I allow patrons to bring their children,” he said. “I remember nights when my parents went out all the time and I couldn’t be with them. Now their children will have that much more time with them. Time I didn’t have.”

Your attention had been so focused on the adults, you realized you’d missed the little heads bobbing around. Your heart melted a little at the sweetness, and you watched as Bruce knelt down to the child. He wasn’t off duty, though. You could still see his eyes darting around, scanning the room, and you did the same. 

“Can I have your autograph?” the child asked, handing his paper and a pen to Bruce. 

“Of course,” Bruce replied. He stood to sign the paper, still glancing around the room. 

Something felt wrong. It happened suddenly, and soundlessly, and you didn’t know for sure until you looked down and saw it. 

A knife.

You blinked, unsure if you were registering this correctly. There was currently a knife sticking out of your side above your hip. The dress was slowly turning from gold to a dark reddish-brown, and you stood, stunned, staring at it.

As if someone turned the volume back up in your head, you heard Constantine’s scream. He was more than halfway through the crowd, on his way to you. He must have been screaming and moving for longer than you’d heard. In the seconds that followed the knife in your side, someone stepped in front of you, keeping a hand on the knife. When he looked over his shoulder at you, you weren’t surprised to see a familiar face. Nick.

He wasn’t wearing a glamor at all. He’d grown out his facial hair in the time you’d been apart, but that was it. All this time you’d been looking for anyone but him. Of course. You didn’t feel any pain at the moment. It was still like a dream, unreal. 

Constantine had dropped the glamor and made his way to the circle that had opened up around you. Bruce was standing in front of the child he’d been talking to, and was staring at you, helpless. 

You almost cried when you registered the expression on Constantine’s face over Nick’s shoulder. There were tears streaming down from red, angry eyes. His teeth were bared and he had his hands up, ready to throw magic at Nick.

“I really wouldn’t bother with that,” Nick said, next to your ear. “Managed to put the same anti-magic spell on myself that I used on her. Quite a good call on my part if I do say so. Cursed blade as well, I’m afraid,” he feigned sorrow. “So no magicking the wound away, even if you could get a clean shot at her.”

Constantine nearly growled, but he didn’t advance. Nick was keeping one hand on the knife to keep you in place, but the other was held out, as if he were shielding you from danger rather than rescue. You could pull away, you supposed, but you couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be a fatal move. You didn’t know where the knife was inside you, if one wrong move could end everything.

“Meet me in the place where it all went to Hell,” he said cryptically. “Come alone, and I won’t kill her until you get there.”

And then, you simply weren’t at the mansion anymore. You blinked, and suddenly, you were in a forest. It seemed to be the northeast still, but you weren’t sure where. Nick let go of you when you landed in this new place, and you turned to him, confused. 

“Portal,” Nick explained before you could ask. “Thankfully not limited by the protection spell. Had to modify it. Took some work. Although I did prevent any portals to Hell,” he smirked.

So that’s what he’d been doing all the time you couldn’t find him.

“Where are we?” you groaned. 

He looked hatefully around at the greenery and sighed. 

“This is where my life fell to shit,” he shrugged. “This is where Constantine sent me to hell, took my girl, and ran away to live his life.”

“You probably deserved it,” you spat, trying your best to keep still.

“No argument there,” Nick smirked. “But being in Hell doesn’t exactly lessen one’s grudges.”

“How’d you even get out?” you asked. “How did you put that spell on me without me knowing?”

“Oh I just needed your hair,” he shrugged. “Easy enough to grab some off a table you’d been sitting at for a while.”

You cursed your hair. It literally got everywhere. Kevin would have felt so validated for his complaining that your hair clogged up the sinks and vacuums right now.

“And Hell?” you asked. 

But then a portal opened up not far from where you’d appeared, and you saw Constantine walk through. Nick had not moved much from his position since you teleported. His hand still lay threateningly on the knife handle, and you dared not move. Constantine’s progress towards you halted. You had almost gotten used to being a shield, but now you were behind one.

Constantine’s expression of sorrowful worry changed completely as he turned his attention to Nick. 

“Just because I can’t force you to Hell with magic, doesn’t mean I won’t send you there another way,” Constantine spat.

“You could,” Nick offered. “Or you could send yourself to Hell, and save your girl.”

Constantine stopped and glanced back at you. 

“Explain,” he said to Nick.

“Well, as I was about to explain to your soulmate here before you came, I didn’t just dig my way up from Hell.”   
“You made a deal,” Constantine guessed. Nick nodded. 

“Send Constantine’s soul to Hell, get my life back,” Nick smiled. “And right now I’d say you have about ten minutes before she bleeds out without stitches. So you have an option. Send yourself to hell and I’ll take her to a hospital, or stay, and watch as your beloved dies.”

Constantine’s face was hard, he tried not to look at you. Suddenly, his expression softened and you could see the wheels turning. 

“You don’t have any clout in Hell,” he scoffed. “You wouldn’t have gotten an amazing deal for this.”

“Why else would I go to this length?” Nick asked.

“No, I’m not saying you’re lying about the quid pro quo,” Constantine said, regaining a little cockiness. “I’m wondering about the time frame.”

Nick’s body stiffened, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. Constantine was onto something.

“Back in the days when I used to make the odd deal here or there, there was always a ridiculous time frame. Now, surely there would have been other times to come and attack us, time to figure out where we were and how to get in there. But you didn’t have time, did you? Not after messing around with that protection spell.”

Constantine’s eyes were sharp, focused. He walked confidently back and forth. 

“I have more than ten minutes,” Nick smirked, also regaining some confidence. He looked around. “I’m glad you knew where to come. I thought it would be fitting to see you launch yourself into Hell in the same place I was dragged there.”

“I’m glad you picked the spot,” Constantine laughed. “Made my backup plan so much easier.”

You and Nick shared an expression of confusion.

“Go ahead, Big Boy,” Constantine said carelessly, seemingly to a tree. 

You were confused as to what he’d said. Was he letting Nick have you? You didn’t believe it for a second, and with good reason. 

A vine from a nearby tree snaked up Nick’s leg, up his torso and around his arm. His grip loosened on the knife, and you immediately stepped away to watch the rest of Nick become engulfed in vines, leaving only his head exposed. It was like some force has caused these plants to grow in a way that constrained him perfectly. You nearly fell over, but Constantine caught you as he raced to you. He lead you to a tree where he leaned you against it. 

“You know how you always wanted to meet Swamp Thing?” he asked with a small smile. 

You glanced over his shoulder and saw a large collection of plants and wildlife in the vague shape of a human. It waved. You gently waved back. 

“Ta for that,” Constantine tipped an imaginary hat towards Swamp Thing. “And as for you. You can rot here until your contract runs out or you die,” he said.

“I only have a few more hours,” Nick managed to say through the vines. 

“Ah, well, hope you like not moving for a few hours until you burn in Hell forever,” he smiled grimly. “You’re good to keep an eye on him?” he asked Swamp Thing. 

Swamp Thing nodded and turned his attention to Nick. You were still staring open mouthed at the thing, but you looked at Constantine who picked you up, careful not to nudge the knife at all. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said softly. 

And when you felt the familiar walls of the house around you again, you passed out.


	9. Chapter 9

You startled awake, gasping, before calming hands made you relax back into the bed. It smelled familiar, and as your eyes adjusted, you realized you were back in the house, in Constantine’s room. He was beside you, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t be mad at Bruce,” was the first thing you said to him. 

You remembered everything, and you knew that he would be pissed, even if he shouldn’t be.

“I’m not mad,” he promised, scooping your hand up and kissing the back of it.

You faltered, confused. 

“You’re not?” you asked. 

“I’m fucking furious,” he said, in a dangerously calm voice. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to sit up, but were stopped by a shattering pain in your side.

“Don’t move,” he warned. 

“Yeah, gathered that,” you frowned. “Don’t do anything to him, he tried his best,” you pleaded. 

He sighed, looking at the worried lines on your face. 

“Fine,” he resigned.

“Really?” you asked.

He pressed his lips into a fine line and closed his eyes, sighing. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a moment. 

“Like I got stabbed,” you muttered. 

“Swamp Thing said they claimed his soul about two hours after we left. He took care of the body, or rather, what remained of it.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a little grungy inside. 

“I told you it’s not all fun and games in this world,” he said. It was less of a taunting  _ I told you so, _ and more of a  _ I’m sorry it is this way. _

“I guess you were right,” you sighed. 

You watched as he reached into the night stand and pulled out a small vial. It reminded you of the jar in  _ Alice in Wonderland _ . You wondered if it might not just shrink you right down.

“What’s that?” you asked, hoping the answer was pain medication. 

“Memory potion,” Constantine said absently, inspecting the jar as if for scratches. 

“What do you need that for?” you asked. 

“Not me,” he shook his head, handing the vial to you. You took it tentatively, not understanding. “If you want it,” he said. He couldn’t quite meet your gaze.

“The fuck are you talking about?” you asked, ignoring the pain as you sat up to look at him.

This movement at least caught his attention and he actually winced as if he could feel what you were feeling as you moved. 

“I just figured… You had said that you couldn’t imagine going back to your regular life after this. And now you don’t have to. This will erase your time here and add fake memories to fill in the time gaps.”

You shook your head, laughing. 

“Are you serious?” you asked. “You think I want that?”

He looked at you, confused. 

“You don’t?”

“Why would I want to give this up?” you asked, looking down at his hands on yours. 

He still looked confused, as if it should be obvious why you should give this up, as if there were a million reasons he could list right now.

“Because it’s not too late for you,” he responded softly, still avoiding your gaze. “You can still get out of this life unscathed.” He glanced at your wound. “Well, your soul at least.”

You shook your head vehemently. 

“I know it hasn’t been long,” you admitted. “But I can’t imagine being anywhere else. With any _ one _ else.”

He finally looked at you, and it pained you to see that he still didn’t quite believe you.

“I can't give you a normal life,” he said softly. 

“I didn’t ask for one,” you reminded him.

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” he said, almost to himself.

He looked tired, you realized, and you wondered if he’d stayed up while you slept, making that potion for you.

“Why don’t you lie down?” you suggested, running your fingers in light circles on his arm.

He nodded absently and walked around to the other side of the bed. He laid down facing you, and tried to keep his eyes open, but failed. You smiled faintly as you watched him, suddenly feeling very awake. 

You needed to use the bathroom anyway so you got up and walked a ways down the hallway. It was painful at first, getting up, but once you were up and not using your abdominals as much, it wasn’t so bad. After finding the bathroom and heading back out into the hallway, you didn’t see the bedroom door where it had been.

What you did see, were the doors to the pool and garden you’d been in with Constantine. Curious as to why those doors would appear when he hadn’t seen them in years before you came, you walked inside. It was still bursting with life around the centered pool. The air was fresh, and you smiled at the memories of your silly day with Constantine.

You walked around for a moment, until you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of a voice. 

“I thought I might find you here,” he said. 

You turned and saw Swamp Thing amongst the vines and leaves of the large stone piece.

“Oh, hi,” you said, catching your breath after the scare. “Funny, I didn’t think I’d find anyone in here.”

You had a chance to study his body and face now. The vegetation around his face seemed to have the attributes of human features, but made out of different plants. He was quite tall, but sitting down he seemed to almost fade into the background of the other plants.

“Since you’re here,” you said, taking a step towards him. “I want to say thanks for helping me out of that situation.”

“How’s your wound?” he asked. 

You lifted your shirt to show him the bloody bandage above your hip.

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. 

“May I?” he asked, holding a hand out towards it.

“Uh, sure?” you responded, not sure what he meant to do.

With a surprisingly delicate and precise touch, he lifted off the bandage. He scooped something off of a plant, and gently laid it on the wound. It instantly felt better, and the pain retreated as if time were reversing. You watched as the string from your stitches fell to the ground as your wound healed before your eyes.

You blinked, unsure how this could be.

“I thought they said magic couldn’t heal a wound from that cursed blade,” you asked.

“This is hardly magic,” Swamp Thing said. “Not in the way that blade was created. The Green houses powers older than many gods,” he said.

“You just keep saving me,” you laughed. “Thank you.”

He nodded slowly and rested against the stone. 

“Do you come to the house much?” you asked, taking a painless seat near him. “Constantine said he hadn’t seen you in a while when he mentioned you.”

“I go where I’m needed,” he shrugged. “I am needed a lot these days. And least by this house.”

There was an amicable silence before he spoke again. 

“And what of Constantine?” he asked. “Where is he?”

“Sleeping,” you said. “I think he stayed up making me a memory potion.”

“You wish to forget?” 

“No,” you laughed. “But I don’t think he believes that.”

“Perhaps he wants to forget,” he offered. “He’s seen many horrors in his life.”

You hadn’t thought of that, and suddenly wondered if he were drinking that potion right now.

“I have a feeling it’s more that he doesn’t want you to have to remember them,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. “Not many would want to recall being stabbed or knowing of the existence of the things you’ve witnessed.”

“I want to remember him,” you assured him. “And this place. And you. And meeting Batman, and learning magic.”

You sighed in wonderment at the things you’d seen in your time with Constantine, and the things you’d felt.

“Like many of life’s lessons, Constantine forgets that there is a balance to everything,” Swamp Thing said, giving you what you presumed to be a smile. “Where there is dark there is also light, as they say. I suspect he wishes to only bring you light. But that is not possible.”

“It sure isn’t,” you smiled softly.

Your head perked up from the flower you’d been admiring when you heard the doors to the room open. Constantine wandered in a few steps while scanning the room until finding you. He must have just came from bed because his hair was messy and his shirt hung open, unbuttoned.

“Oi, trying to steal my bird, green man?” Constantine teased, taking a seat next to you.

“I believe she is a person and not a possession of yours, John,” Swamp Thing said.

You laughed and looked at Constantine. 

“It’s that kind of sweet talk that’ll drive me right into those emerald arms,” you warned. 

He laughed half heartedly and looked at you seriously for a moment. 

“You alright, luv?” he asked softly. 

You lifted your shirt to show him your healed skin. He touched it, amazed. 

“You?” he asked Swamp Thing. He nodded. “Well done, mate,” he muttered. “Cheers.”

For Constantine, that was near speechlessness, and you and Swamp Thing shared a look of mild concern. 

“I will leave you to recover,” Swamp Thing said, nodding his goodbye to you.

“Thanks,” you said. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“No need,” he said. 

You turned to look at Constantine as Swamp Thing retreated back into the greenery. He had lit a cigarette and was smoking, careful not to dust the plants with any ashes.

“I told you to sleep,” you said, leaning against him. 

“Couldn’t without you,” he answered, blowing smoke. 

“Sorry,” you said. “Couldn’t find our door when I came back from the bathroom. Figured the house wanted me to come here.”

“For good reason,” Constantine said, pointing to your healed wound.

“She really does like me,” you smiled. “Jealous?”

He kissed your cheek and stood up, offering you his hand. 

“Exceptionally,” he answered. 

You took his hand and stood close to him, looking up at his concerned face.

“We’re really doing this?” he asked.

You knew what he meant. You were really choosing to stay here with him, in this life. To remember everything. To take the good with the bad.

“Yes,” you said. 


	10. Chapter 10

“I see you’re making yourself at home,” Zatanna noted as you were making coffee in the kitchen in your pjs.

You smiled sheepishly, still not sure where you stood with her. She was clearly the alpha in this house, and it didn’t help your standing that you were dating her ex. 

“Did you want some coffee?” you asked, as a peace offering. 

She took the cup you offered, but you couldn’t read her face. Not too long ago she’d told you all was well, that she understood your place in all this with Constantine. Still, figuring out how everything would work now that you were staying with them was something else. You’d been a guest before, a victim even. Now, while you weren’t exactly their equal, you were a sort of resident.

“Pretty good,” she offered, taking a sip.

“Kevin said I made the only coffee he would drink besides Starbucks,” you said absently. Then you stopped, and realized you hadn’t talked to him in some time. Who knew how much time outside the house had passed. “I should probably visit him or something. Pay the rent at least,” you muttered to yourself.

“Won’t you be living here?” Zatanna asked.

“Um, I don’t know, can I?” you responded. 

“I don’t see why not,” she said, though her smile seemed a little forced. 

Constantine appeared in the doorway then, shirtless, cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth.

“Smells delicious,” he muttered, eyes still full of sleep. He walked like a zombie over to you and hugged you from behind, burying his face in your neck. 

“It’s just coffee,” you laughed. 

“Wasn’t talking about the coffee, luv” he murmured with a smirk.

You heard Zatanna gag dramatically before making her exit.   
“Must you?” you laughed, turning to him. “I want her to like me.”

“What, so you can borrow her corsets?” he teased.

You pushed him gently in the chest before handing him a cup of coffee.

“No, so she doesn’t kill me in my sleep,” you half-joked.

He nearly laughed and shook his head. 

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he promised. “Especially if that fly had me as a boyfriend.”

You almost laughed at the term,  _ boyfriend. _ It seemed so trivial, so below where you were. In the last week you’d spent with him after everything with Nick had gone down, it was as if you were starting to share the same brain. You could intuit what he was feeling, if he needed space or a hug, and it seemed the same with him. You turned in his arms, looking at his bare chest and torso. You’d noticed them before, the tattoos, but you’d never asked about them.

“Do these mean anything?” you asked.

Goosebumps rose on the skin around the tattoos as you ghosted your hand over them. 

“Mmm,” he nodded. “That one’s an anti-possession one,” he said, to the circular one you’d been hovering. “And the one below it’s sort of an early warning system. Sends a tingle if a demon’s nearby. Most of the time anyway,” he said, referring to the small line of tiny sigils along the side of his body.

“Magic tattoos,” you smiled. “The wonders never cease.”

“We should probably get you these,” he noted. “If you want.”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds ideal,” you laughed. “Hey, I wanted to stop by my roommate’s place and get him up to speed and all that anyway. Maybe we hit a tattoo parlor on our way back?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled. “I know a place,” he added. “And the sooner the better. I hate to think who Nick was talking to for that week we couldn’t find him. I don’t want anyone learning about you and going after you.”

That thought had occurred to you, though you’d pushed it down so far you’d almost forgotten it. You knew the dangers of this life, but sometimes you had to ignore them for the sake of your sanity.

You both dressed, and headed to one of the many portals of the house. She lead you right to your own bedroom, and it was like entering a dream realm. You hadn’t been back in a month at this point, though you thought it was less time in this realm. Still, everything was as you’d left it. Constantine helped magic everything neatly together and sent it back through the portal to the house.

You walked into the living room to find Kevin and his boyfriend on the couch, watching TV. 

“Miss me?” you said, right next to his ear. 

He jumped right off the couch and screamed. His boyfriend, Carl, looked rather alarmed too.

“How’d you get in?” he asked, looking at the only door in and out of the house.

“Magic,” you teased. He smirked, and you figured he probably thought you climbed in through a window to scare him.

“Where’ve you been?” Carl asked. “Kevin said you got a new job.”

“I’ve got a new many things,” you laughed. “Listen, I know you probably know this but--”

“Carl’s already planning on moving in,” Kevin said. “Don’t worry about the rent or leaving me hanging.”

You blinked, surprised, but delighted. You hugged Kevin and heard Constantine clear his throat behind you. 

“Sorry,” you blushed. “This is my, erm, boyfriend, John Constantine,” you said.

“Pleasure,” John smiled forcefully at them.

“Ooo, love a brit,” Carl winked.

Constantine smirked. 

“What’re you two up to, besides packing?” Kevin asked. “No rush, not like we need the second bedroom, but figure you want your stuff.”

“Getting a tattoo, actually,” you smiled. 

“Wow,” Kevin nodded. “Right on.”

“I took care of everything in my room,” you said on your way out the door. “Hope you don’t miss me too terribly!” Constantine waved and followed you out.

“So where are we going to get me some ink?” you asked. 

“I know a place,” he said. “Did mine. ‘S in Gotham though, bit of a haul.”

“Should we go back to the house, try to go through another portal?” you suggested. 

He took your hand as you walked down the street. It had just rained, and the streets were damp. The air smelled fresh. He seemed to be thinking about something. 

“I thought we might walk a bit?” he suggested. You looked confused. “Not all the way, obviously,” he laughed. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” you smiled, happy to be with him in whatever context.

He was quiet, and you listened to the wind in the trees and the birds chirping. It was really an ideal neighborhood, you realized. Carl and Kevin would have a good life settling down here. And where would you be? In a house in a void, you supposed. What would that mean for your life on the outside? Your head hurt thinking of the time differences and the potential life course you’d chosen for yourself. He had mentioned that they didn’t spend all their time in the house, usually. What would that mean for the two of you then? A house like the one you’d rented? Settling down didn’t seem to be in Constantine’s nature. The idea was nice, the thought of you growing old in a garden together. But it wasn’t what you wanted. Mostly because you knew it was impossible. There would always be something. Something coming after you, something to fight, someone to save. The house and the garden would go to the normal people. People who didn’t know who their soulmate was, people who didn’t know that magic existed. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing as you as you watched his eyes. They were far away from this quiet street. 

You’d been walking for a good ten minutes in silence before he spoke again. 

“Ready to travel?” he asked. 

His voice was unexpected, but it didn’t make you jump. Instead, you looked at him, a little excited, and nodded. 

He released your hand to summon a portal, and you watched as the energy fell off of him in waves, powering the circling door of flickering light in front of you. He returned his hand to yours and lead you through to an alleyway. It certainly smelled like Gotham. This was more the smell and look of your life, you realized. Not petrichor in a suburban neighborhood, a back alley of Gotham.

He lead you out of the alley and down the street a ways to a tattoo parlor. It didn’t look busy at all, and you didn’t think that was a good sign. A few heads turned when you entered, but most turned back to whatever they were doing. One that didn’t came to greet you. He looked thinner than some cancer patients. He could have been forty or seventy, it was impossible to tell.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a scraggly voice.

“Aye, lookin’ for Mickey,” Constantine said. 

“He’s on vacation,” the man said. “Name’s Gus. Maybe I can help ya?”

“Doubtful,” Costantine said, grabbing your hand and making to leave.

“Woah, woah, I know you,” Gus said. “Constantine right?”

He stopped, and looked at the man. 

“I’m a friend of Mickey’s, he talks about all his, erm, special clients,” he smirked knowingly. 

Constantine narrowed his eyes slightly and waited for Gus to continue. 

“The demon stuff,” he whispered. “The magic wards and all that. Don’t buy it myself, but I respect all religions.”

You and Constantine shared a knowing look. 

“I think I got some of his more popular designs on file if you want me to do one for you,” he offered. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

You shared another glance with Constantine, and you knew you both had the same thought. Being back in Gotham reminded you that Nick had had all that time to make enemies for you. You really couldn’t waste more time unprotected.

“Alright,” Constantine said.

“Great, we’ll do it in the back room,” Gus offered. 

This relieved you somewhat. Being around the clientele in this parlor made you a little uncomfortable. And not for yourself. The older men ogling you were in more danger from Constantine, than you were from them.

Gus lead you to the back room that was separated by a heavy curtain. There was a chair that was made to bend a lot of ways depending on how the client needed to lie down, and Gus showed you over to it. He also showed you a book of all different wards, and Constantine picked out the two you’d be getting today.

“Where do you want ‘em?” he asked. 

“Um, probably along here,” you suggested, pointing to a similar area as Constantine’s, but a little more on your back than your front. 

“Perfect, I’ll just put you on your stomach then. Lift up your shirt when you’re ready and we’ll get started.”

You did as he asked, and laid down on the table. Constantine sat in the chair by the curtain, and watched Gus carefully. Gus whistled while he got ready, and it relaxed you a little. He pulled up a stool and got his tools all ready to go. But the air had changed. The needle was right above you, but Gus wasn’t moving. Instead, he turned his attention to Constantine.

“Funny, isn’t it, how these things only work on full-fledged demons,” he noted, looking at the warning ward outline on your skin. “They don't warn against demon blood though, do they?”

He glanced at the tube holding the ink, and smirked at Constantine. 

“Maybe you felt a little tingle, but nothing like what you’re used to,” he said. “Now, seeing as I could easily fill your girl here and taint her soul forever, I think we have some negotiating to do.”

You felt stiff. It was worse than holding you with the cursed blade. If you moved even half an inch, the needle would puncture you, filling you with tainted blood.

Constantine was standing now, and nearly steaming with anger. 

“You’re making a huge fucking mistake, mate,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Am I?” he asked, pretending to ponder. “Because I think, once you’ve let Nixalba into your body, and I’m given my promised reward, I’ll consider it a wise business move.”

“Put the needle down,” Constantine warned. 

“Or what?” he laughed. “You won’t take a chance. You don’t know whatever spell you cast won’t cause my arm to move  _ just _ enough to puncture her. You don’t know I don't have backup waiting just outside. You won’t chance anything. Just like Nick said.”

You saw him flinch and could read the guilt on his face.

“Now, run that nice little knife along those tattoos of yours, and summon him,” Gus said, nodding to the decorated knife that was laying on the counter.

You could see the gears turning in Constantine’s head, but you knew Gus was right. He wouldn’t risk anything that might hurt you. 

“Don’t do it,” you pleaded. “It’s fine. I can take it.”

You didn’t know what you were saying, or what it might mean for your soul to be tainted with demon blood, but you knew you didn’t want Constantine to be possessed, and that was enough. 

“Aw, listen to that,” Gus teased.

Constantine couldn’t look at you, he was focused on the knife. He didn’t seem to hear your further pleas not to do this, and you were screaming as he slid the knife down his torso, shallowly cutting through the tattoos.

He muttered ancient words as his eyes rolled back in his head. His eyes turned dark, almost black, and he fell to the ground. You thought for sure some booming dark voice would erupt immediately from him, but he got up, eyes clear. He was sweating, and looked as though he might die of the flu, but he was up.

“Let her go,” he demanded. 

Gus looked as surprised as you did, but did as he was told. 

“How?” Gus asked, his voice shaking. 

“Let’s go,” Constantine managed to say to you. You ran to him and he put his arm around you. You did your best to hold him up, and you walked out of the shop with difficulty. 

“What happened?” you asked. “Are you…”

“He’s in there alright,” Constantine said. “And we don’t have much time.”

With incredible difficulty, he started the same movements and words he had earlier and created a portal. 

“Tell Chas… Tell… Chas…”

He was getting paler by the second, and the portal seemed to be getting smaller. You dragged him through as he fell, and made it just as the portal closed. 

“Tell him… Blue basket,” Constantine said, and then passed out.

Panting, you looked around at where you landed. It seemed like some kind of small library at first. Books lined the walls, and there was a table and some chairs along with a couch around them. But then you saw a kitchen and a spiral staircase, and realized you were in someone’s house. 

Constantine was out cold, and you looked around desperately, finding nothing. Until you saw the man in the doorway. 

“The fuck has he gotten into this time?” he asked.


	11. Chapter 11

You were lost for words. Constantine was near-dead in your arms on the ground, and this brown-haired man seemed completely at ease, as if this were a daily occurrence.

“He’s been possessed,” you said, once you’d gathered your wits.

The man rolled his eyes and helped you get Constantine to his feet. 

“Come on, let’s get him to the bed,” he said tiredly.

You didn’t have time to be too confused at his nonchalance.

“Are you Chas?” you asked, assuming that’s where Constantine would have lead you.

“Yup,” he answered shortly. 

“Why did he lead me here?” you asked. 

“Probably because I’ve exorcised quite a few demons out of him,” he answered.

He opened the door of a room and you saw a bed with chains on it. You had no choice but to follow, dragging Constantine’s near lifeless body towards it. Once he was on it, Chas shackled Constantine to the bed. You looked on in numbed horror.

“What’s going to happen to him?” you asked. 

Chas finally looked at you, really looked at you, and sighed. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for whatever he told you during your little triste, but I’ll take it from here, don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. 

“I’m not leaving him,” you promised.

“Listen, not to be callous, but you’re not the first girl to drag him here, and not all of those situations ended so great. I’m not keen to trust you, just being honest.”

“He said tell you, ‘blue basket’?” you said, fearing you’d be thrown out and never see Constantine again.

Chas blinked and nodded.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “I trust you.”

“That’s it?” you asked.

“Long story,” he sighed. “Short story is, blue basket is code for trust this person.”

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “Good.” 

“What was the demon’s name?” he asked. “Did you catch it?”

“Nixalba,” you repeated what you’d heard.

“Snow White demon,” Chas muttered. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Come on,” Chas said. 

You were loathed to leave Constantine, let alone chained to a bed, but you followed the man with answers into the kitchen. He poured himself a drink and leaned on the kitchen island.

“A Snow White demon,” Chas repeated. “At least that’s what people in the business started calling them once the story popped up.”

“Why’s that?” you asked. 

“Well, their one weakness is true love’s kiss,” he explained. “They’re un-exorcise-able, save for the few moments after a shared love’s kiss.”

Your face lit up and Chas raised an eyebrow with minimal enthusiasm. 

“I’m his, I mean we’re soulmates,” you said excitedly.    
“What?” Chas asked, nearly choking on his drink. 

“Yeah it was a whole thing with Nick Necro. He’ll catch you up I’m sure. But short story is, yeah, an angel told Nick that me and Constantine belong together.”

“Fuck me,” Chas said to himself.

“Well let’s go in there,” you said, anxiously taking a few steps closer to the door.

“You don’t want to do that once the demon’s taken over,” he warned.

“Why?” you asked. 

“The demon will show you things. Visions of what he’s done. The worst of the worst,” he said. “It’ll try to convince you that he’s not your true love, or at least, that you don’t want him to be, which would be enough.”

You paused, thinking of all the possibilities of the things it could show you.

“I see you’ve been around him long enough to know there’s a plethora of things to see,” Chas noted. You nodded slowly.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” you asked. “Shouldn’t I try to kiss him while he’s out?”

“Won’t matter,” Chas shook his head. “The demon will show you things if John’s conscious or not. And as hard as it’s going to be while he’s awake, it is more effective to wait until the demon’s fully present to do the kiss. Gives me more time to exorcise it.”

You bit your lip, worrying it to the point of nearly drawing blood.

“It’ll be okay,” Chas promised, putting a suddenly friendly hand on your shoulder. “He always weasles his way out of this sort of thing. You’ll see. Plus, John’s strong, he should have a few hours before the demon fully takes over.”

You nodded slowly, lost in thought. 

“We’ll probably need another hand,” Chas mentioned. 

“Zatanna,” you muttered distractedly. 

“Yeah, I’ll give her a ring, good call,” he agreed.

“I’m just gonna wait with him,” you heard the words come out of your mouth.

He was still out cold, and it broke your heart to see him. He’d saved you, saved you from something you didn’t even know the entirety of its evil. He looked paler than he had before, and he was sweating a lot. There was blood seeping through his drenched shirt where he’d cut himself with the knife. This was all your fault. If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be here right now. He wouldn’t be possessed, or bleeding, or anything.

You knelt beside the bed and lay your head against his sweaty hand. He jolted awake at the contact, and you looked at him. He assessed the chains and fell back onto the bed, almost relieved. You could tell instantly that it was still him.

“Hi,” you managed in a strained voice. 

He sighed and smiled at you tiredly.

“Hi, luv,” he muttered. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, burying your face against his chest. He made to comfort you, but you heard the chains clanging in protest.

“I’d do it a thousand times over,” he promised.

You gave him a look and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“How long do you think you have?” you asked, thinking of Chas’ estimate.

“A few hours, maybe less,” he confirmed. “It’s a strong one.”

“Chas said my kiss will save you, once it takes over, but…”

“It’s a Snow White demon, I know,” he nodded. “I wish I could tell you that you wouldn’t see some horrible stuff…” he trailed off. Then he gave you that smirk and it almost broke you. How could he be so cocky on his deathbed?

“How bad is it gonna be?” you asked. 

He bit his lip and thought for a moment.

“It’s not going to be great,” he admitted. Then, in an uncharacteristic shade of doubt, he added, “Do you love me?”

“Of course,” you replied without thinking. He sighed as if with relief.

Everything had been lovely this morning. And now everything had changed. You had to admit you were scared of what it would show you, and suddenly felt very alone. Zatanna would be here soon at least. A familiar face if nothing else.

“You should go wait with Chas,” Constantine said. “Rest while you can before it takes over.”

You didn't want to leave him, but you did as he asked, heading back into the kitchen.

Zatanna hadn’t messed around with getting here. You heard a knock coming from above, near the spiral staircase not an hour later. She came down, and to your surprise, she hugged you. She followed you and Chas to Constantine’s room. Chas stopped you from going past the threshold, you guessed he thought the demon might be in there already. Constantine was out cold though. Zatanna went to Constantine and felt his forehead with her hand. 

“We’ll have to act quickly,” she said. “He’s burning up inside.”

You were stupidly jealous at her ability to approach him. You wanted so badly to touch him, to make sure he was okay. But you couldn’t get close without the visions starting, and you didn’t want to start that until you absolutely had to.

“So what’s the plan?” Zatanna asked. 

“Wait till the demon wakes up, have her kiss him, exorcise it,” Chas stated. 

Zatanna looked doubtful, the corners of her mouth turning down as she played with a small amulet around her neck.

“This demon must be strong if he was willing to take John on,” Zatanna commented. “I’m worried she won’t be able to get close, not with so much ammo at the demon’s disposal.”

Chas frowned and nodded in agreement. He turned to you. 

“You’re a hundred percent sure you’re his soulmate?” he confirmed. 

You nodded without thinking, but his lingering stare for your confirmation made a small bubble of doubt form in your stomach. 

“What?” you asked, after he didn’t say anything. “I mean, yeah, I am sure.”

“She can barely handle silent questioning,” Chas shot Zatanna a look. “How is she supposed to hold up against visions?”

“She’ll be fine,” Zatanna promised, laying a gentle hand on your arm. 

Just then you heard Constantine stirring, and looked over to the bed. His eyes were dark, his skin almost translucent. His shirt was still soaked with sweat, and his hair was dripping. It made him smile unnaturally at you, and tilted his head. 

“He’s a strong one,” the demon said. “Took me a while to crawl over his mind and crush it down like a bug.”

You tensed, but Zatanna and Chas took a micro step forward in front of you. It’s attention didn’t seem to be distracted, however, as it held eye contact with you.

“You’re the one,” it almost sang. “I can feel it.  _ He _ can feel it. You’re the one.”

It cackled then, throwing its head back and letting out a disgusting bellow.

“Oh, have I got some goodies to show you,” it said, baring its teeth at you.

The display alone was enough to dispel your wanting to kiss him. It was everything except a turning head and pea soup vomit. 

“Give it a try,” Zatanna whispered. 

You eyed the chains holding him down, and saw that there was no way they could wrap around you. They were short, only about two links for each of them. He could sit up and lie down if he tried, but he couldn’t move his arms or legs more than a few inches.

You felt a slight push at your back, edging you closer to the bed. It was unnerving to look at him like this. Something was wearing Constantine’s skin, using his voice, looking through his eyes. You wondered if he could see you down there, wherever he was in his mind or body. You hoped so. If it were you, you’d want to see him coming for you. And that’s what propelled you forward on your own. You made it to about a foot in front of the bed when the first vision hit.

It was raining. That was the first thing you noticed. You heard the tapping on the large glass window panes. You were in a small apartment. It was full of racks of clothes and various jars and boxes. It was dark, only moonlight for illumination. Your attention was forced to the bed where two figures lay. You saw him, Constantine, and you smiled. But it faded. He was naked, as was she. In bed, with him. Zatanna. Her long black hair was splayed out on the pillow. She was smiling, happy to have him hovering over her, kissing her. And he was happy too. Looking at her almost like the way he looked at you. He ran a finger down the side of her face and let it dip across her lips. 

“I love you, Zee,” he said softly. 

“Fuck off,” she laughed. 

But he didn’t laugh, and her face fell to seriousness. 

“Fuck, really?” she asked, moving to sit up. You tried not to look at her chest. 

“Really,” he laughed, lighting a cigarette. “Izzat so hard to believe?”

She made a face but he growled and kissed her. She was quiet for a moment. 

“I love you too,” she said, with surprising vulnerability.

“You’re the only one who gets me,” he said, and he meant it.

You weren’t just hearing and seeing these things, you were feeling them. You felt the love, the connection between them. They were silent. You felt your heart cracking, threatening to break. Somewhere in your mind you knew that this was the past. That this wasn’t how either of them felt anymore. But now, in the vision, you felt it. For you, it wasn’t the past. It was now. You didn’t exist in this reality, and it was hard to believe you ever wouldn’t. It felt like this would last forever. 

But you felt someone tugging at your arm, and you were yanked back into the bedroom. Back into the reality with Constantine on the bed in chains. 

You were sweating, unable to speak. You felt both numb and broken all at once. Hands dragged you into the main room and sat you on the couch. 

“I got this,” you heard Zatanna say through a fog. “Honey, look at me.”   
You blinked a few times and shook your head to clear it. You looked at her, and instantly regretted it. You saw it again, the smile she’d given him, the words they’d exchanged. 

“You saw us, didn’t you?” she asked, sighing.

She sat next to you and waited for a moment until you nodded. 

“I thought it might. The low blow, that’s usually how they roll.”

You half listened to her. All you could think was how real that love had felt. How were you any different? Why would you last when they hadn’t? How were you in any way a match to Zatanna?

“What did it show you?” she asked quietly. 

“An apartment. It was raining. You said… He said…”

“Ah,” she nodded. “That night.”

“Mmm,” you barely answered.

“Have you ever loved anyone else?” she asked. 

“I… Yes,” you admitted. 

“Did it feel like that?” she asked. “In the beginning?”

“Yes,” you admitted. 

“Do you know how long that lasted?” she asked, a bit of a smirk on her face. You shook your head. “That night,” she laughed. 

You couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved. 

“Of course there were nights  _ like _ that. But not quite. We always tried to get back to that feeling…” she drifted off for a moment. “But it was a momentary connection,” she said. “One based on two lonely people who orbited around each other long enough that they came together.” She looked at you seriously. “I know the demon made you feel like that was going to last forever, because that’s how it felt in that moment. But it didn’t. I know John, I’ve seen him in many situations,” she rolled her eyes. “But none like this. John’s the most selfish person I know, but not with you. Never with you. It’s not a fleeting connection here.”

You could see it in her eyes that she really did believe that. And that comforted you. She seemed so sure of herself all the time, and she didn’t seem any different now. If anything she seemed more confident in what she was saying.

Her hand was on your shoulder and she gave it a little squeeze. 

“Just remember the man you know,” she offered, walking towards the door to Constantine’s room. “The demon will show you things out of context and with extreme tunnel vision. Don’t forget all the good things you’ve seen.”

She left with a nod and gave you time alone to collect yourself before giving it another go. In the aftermath, with a clearer head, you felt silly. It was like him being jealous of one of your high school boyfriends. He would be jealous of something that meant nothing to you anymore. You did as Zatanna asked, gathering memories of Constantine that made you smile, that made you remember he was a good man. Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself to try again.


	12. Chapter 12

You touched the threshold of the room delicately, and suddenly missed the house. She’d have taken care of you and Constantine. You never should have left.

Still, there wasn’t much you could do now but push forward. Chas and Zatanna watched you expectantly, but you were focused on the Joker-like grin on Constantine’s face that grew as he saw you enter.    
“Back for more?” it asked. “You know, I’ve been skimming through Johnny’s memories here, and I must say, I didn’t take you for a screamer,” it said. “Thought you’d be the quiet, passionate type.”

You blushed in your entire body, but attempted to keep your face neutral. You knew it was just trying to throw you off your game.

With shaking legs, you moved forward toward the bed. Constantine was growing weaker by the second, paler and somehow thinner despite the small amount of time. You focused your attention on his lips, trying to remember what your first kiss was like, wanting to recreate that. And for a moment, the thoughts seemed to hold it at bay. You got closer than you had the last time before the visions started coming.

You were here, in this flat, in this room, in fact. But it wasn’t Constantine chained to the wall. 

“I’m sorry, Gary, I’m sorry,” Constantine was muttering. 

Gary, the man who had involuntarily sacrificed his life to save many. The man whose mother you’d visited for the snake’s venom that ultimately saved you. 

He looked far worse than Constantine did now. His skin was yellow and flakey. There was barely any volume to him other than his bones and the skin that was draped on top of them. Somehow, despite there looking to be no muscle on him, he was squirming and crying out in agony. Constantine held his hand and looked on, stone-faced.

You hadn’t imagined it this way. When Constantine had said that he had tricked Gary into sacrificing himself for a demon, you hadn’t thought it was this gruesome. You’d imagined, naively, that he’d gone quickly. That the demon had possessed him and killed him. You were wrong. You could tell, the way you could in a dream, that they’d been here for days. Days of hellish agony that Constantine had put upon this man. It made your stomach turn. This man had been his friend, and he had condemned him to this. The vile loathing grew in your gut, nearly spilling out of you as you watched Gary almost choke on his own bile. 

But you took another look at this vision. Gary, while clearly in pain, was looking at Constantine with anything but contempt or hatred. He was looking at him with pity. He didn’t choose this fate himself, but he was glad to do it, you saw. He pitied his friend for having to sit through it with him. As if opening a door the reverse of the way the demon had, you forced yourself through to related memories. You saw the women and children this hunger demon had possessed, saw their skeleton-like corpses. You saw the devastation this demon had left in its wake, and realized what Constantine must have realized. This was the only way. 

It was people like him that made these kinds of calls. That’s something you realized when you promised yourself to this life. If the calls weren’t made, more people died. He made the best of the worst situation, as you’d originally thought. But now you had more proof.

With growing confidence and Zatanna’s words ringing in the back of your head, you pushed through to better memories. At first you saw Constantine slicing open his side and calling the Snow White demon into himself to save you, but then you saw more. You saw him kissing you, holding you, promising your safety above his own. You saw him laughing, saw him joking with Deadman and Swamp Thing. You saw the best of him, just as you always did. And that’s when the visions faded, and you were able to kiss him. 

It wasn’t long, and he barely reacted, but it was enough. You felt Chas pull you off when you had done your job, and he began his exorcism. You watched as he and Zatanna tag teamed the verse and the holy water ceremony. Constantine’s body writhed and he cursed worse than you’d ever heard or seen, but after a few minutes, a dark force drained out of him, billowing towards the floor and evaporating. He lay still.

Chas turned to you, smiling tiredly.

“It’s gone,” he said. “Good work.”

He clapped you on the shoulder on his way out the door, presumably to collapse somewhere and rest. He looked almost as weary as Constantine. Zatanna gave you a similar expression of exhaustion and relief.

“You’ll stay with him?” she asked, glancing back at him.

“Of course,” you promised. 

“Good,” she nodded. “I’m going to go back to the house where I’m needed. I’m sure I’ll see you there soon.”

She made her way toward the door. 

“Hey, Zatanna,” you stopped her. She turned to face you. “Thanks,” you muttered. 

She strode quickly across the room to wrap you in an unexpected hug. It took you a moment to respond, but you wrapped your arms around her as well. 

“Take care of him,” she said, before leaving you alone with Constantine. She waved her hands and the shackles on his wrists and ankles fell open. 

The door closed behind her, and everything was very quiet. You searched the nearby cabinets and found a first aid kit with supplies for stitches. Carefully, you raised Constantine’s shirt to reveal the cut. It had stopped bleeding, but it was still in need of stitching unless he wanted a really gnarly scar. He seemed pretty much dead to the world, so you started and quickly finished. He didn’t even flinch. You ran your finger along your work, and looked up at the scar on his heart. Also your handiwork. How many scars would you make on this man?

You took this time to look at him, really look. He seemed peaceful asleep. But would he be when he woke? When he spent the rest of his life with you? Someone would always be hunting him, or hunting you. You were just an added target on his back that he didn’t need.

Suddenly, he stirred, breathing deeply as if he’d just been underwater. You calmed him until his eyes cleared and he registered who you were. The first thing he did was kiss you, but you couldn’t bear to kiss him back. Not after everything you’d put him through. He pulled away, confused. 

“It’s me,” he promised. “That bastard’s gone.”

He smiled and held your hands in his.

“It’s not that,” you answered weakly. “Or rather… It is.” He waited patiently for you to explain. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me,” you said.

He rolled his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. 

“Don’t you go doing that,” he said. 

“I’m not doing anything,” you said angrily, rising and standing back from the bed. “I watched you nearly die because of me.”

“I’ve nearly died plenty of times without you, luv,” he laughed. 

He winced as he got off the bed, and you were too slow to try to stop him. He made his way gingerly over to you as if he were stepping on glass. You could barely look at him with the way he moved. He wouldn’t look as though every step hurt if it weren’t for you.

“Will you listen to me, please?” he asked. You were shocked he’d used the p word, and nodded grudgingly. He sighed, preparing his words before he spoke. “You’ve seen my body, you know how many scars are there, yes?” he asked. You nodded again. “With the exception of two, I got those all on my own. None of those were your fault. But you know what I didn’t have when I got those?”

“Me,” you answered, as he’d already stated it. 

“Right,” he said. “You know which two scars are my favorites?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious,” he promised. “They’re my favorite because they’re the only ones made in my life when I’ve ever been truly happy.”

You searched his face for a trace of a lie, but found none. 

“I would slice my skin open many many times for you, luv. Having you in my life makes any and all of this worth a damn. I don’t mind the added danger, ‘cept of course that it affects you, ‘cause I know it’s worth it.”

You smiled, but you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked.

“You should rest,” you ordered. 

It seemed like he wanted to fight you, but he sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Not on this bloody bed,” he grunted, starting to get up.

You assisted him the best you could and managed to keep him upright despite his body’s wavering. You met Chas out in the hallway and he set down his mug on a table to come help you. 

“Your room, I’m guessing?” Chas asked Constantine. 

“Maybe a stop off in the shower first, mate,” he grimaced. “Feels like I’ve got ten marathon’s worth of sweat on me.”

“Smells like it,” Chas answered dryly, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You followed as he lead Constantine into a small room with an en suite bathroom. He guided Constantine to the clawfoot tub inside, and helped him sit on the edge.    
“This is as far as our friendship goes,” he warned, stepping away. 

“He acts like he doesn’t want to see me naked, but we all know the truth,” Constantine winked at you. Chas rolled his eyes and glanced at you. 

“You can take over from here?” he asked. 

You nodded, so he passed you and closed the door behind you. Constantine’s shirt was already unbuttoned, so he simply shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. You knelt in front of him and helped him with his shoes and socks, then ran the water until it was warm and filled the tub. 

Once it was ready, you helped him stand and rid himself of his pants and underwear. It was difficult, but you eased him into the tub and saw his body relax in the warm, soapy water.

“Feel good?” you asked, watching his contented features as he leaned his head against the rim of the tub. 

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Would feel better if you were in here.”

He managed to open one eye and glance your way. 

“Why don’t you get your strength back first?” you winked. “Don’t need your heart giving out on me. What would Chas think?”

“He’d probably thank you,” Constantine answered dryly. You rolled your eyes and sat on the closed lid of the toilet to watch him. 

“How long have you known each other?” you asked. 

“Decade or so?” he guessed. “Forever really, in this line of work.”

“He didn't’ seem to believe me when I told him about us. That it was serious,” you frowned. 

“Yeah, well, he’s seen me with more than a few, erm, companions,” Constantine laughed. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Sure he will now though, what with your kiss bringing me back from near death.”

Your heart clenched at the recent memory of his pale and contorted body. You had closed your eyes without realizing it, so the wet hand on yours came as a surprise. Constantine had sat up in the tub and leaned forward to comfort you.

“‘S’alright, luv,” he promised. “We made it out of the woods.”

“This time,” you smiled grimly. 

“Every time,” he swore. “For you, every time.”

You couldn’t help but believe him, despite knowing full well his powers of persuasion were in full swing.

“Alright, we should get you into bed,” you said, motioning with your hands for him to stand up.

You helped dry him off and lead him right to bed, not bothering to clothe him. You tucked him in and he was barely keeping his eyes open. 

“Love you,” he muttered, before passing out. 

You watched him a while longer, watched his chest rise and fall, and left to go find Chas. You found him in the kitchen, reading a book and finishing whatever had been in that mug from earlier. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. “For saving him.”

Chas looked surprised, like this wasn’t something you should be saying to him. 

“That’s my job,” he shrugged.

“Still, thank you,” you said. You weren’t one for emotional speeches, so you hoped your tone and face conveyed just how desperately you’d needed Constantine to be okay, and how grateful you were that he was.

“You know, I thought you were just another one of his  _ friends _ that didn’t really mean anything to him,” Chas said. “But you’re not, are you?”

You shook your head.

“It’s for real,” you laughed quietly. “For better or worse.”

“Probably worse,” Chas half-joked.

“You’re a good friend,” you said. 

“Sometimes,” he smirked. “And you’re a good… Soulmate, I guess. Jesus, never thought I’d hear that word in relation to John.”

You chuckled. 

“I should be with him,” you nodded, looking back towards the hallway you’d come from. “Just wanted to thank you.”

Chas nodded with what you hoped was a friendly smile. You found your way back to Constantine. You rid yourself of your clothes and snuggled into bed with him. You laid on your side watching him for some time. You were afraid he would randomly stop breathing, or that the face that had been so contorted and hateful would return and laugh at you for thinking you could be happy for even a moment.

You watched him until you fell asleep, too deeply to dream.


	13. Chapter 13

It turned out that Chas didn’t live in the bunker, as you’d come to call it. He lived with his wife and daughter a few miles away. That meant that you and Constantine had the place to yourselves in a home where the only danger outside was the Georgia wildlife. No void out there, but also fewer windows to see that fact. The bunker, as you found out after Constantine’s life was definitely out of danger from the Snow White Demon, was underground. 

It felt safe, you’d give it that, and even cozy with all the candles. 

You spent about a week getting Constantine back on his feet, as the demon had drained more of his energy than he cared to admit. 

You had made him dinner towards the end of the week and were happily eating at the table with him. 

“Do you think we’ll stay here?” you asked. It had occurred to you that your whole relationship had been running from evil so far. Would you put down roots here?

“Dunno, luv,” he said between bites. “What do you fancy?”

You shrugged. 

“Doesn’t much matter to me,” you answered honestly. “Just want to be with you.”

He smiled and shook his head as if in response to something only he could hear, rather than what you’d said.

“Seems as good a place as any, I guess,” he said. “All my supplies are here too, though I’ll be needing to restock soon.”

“You know I just realized I never asked how you make money?” you asked. 

“Bit of this, bit of that,” he shrugged. “Playing the lottery with some magical predictions, poker, you name it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you laughed.

“What about you?” he asked. 

“What about me?”

“What did you want, career wise?” he asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” you admitted. “Had different ideas of what I wanted every few months. Couldn’t really sit still at any one job.”

He smirked and nodded like he understood.

“You still want to be my apprentice? Or whatever you want to call it?”

You smiled and moved to sit on his lap. He looked up at you fondly as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I think so,” you smiled. “Sounds like a good way to spend a life, helping people.”

“That’s always the intention anyway,” he said grimly. 

You ran your hand through his hair, wondering what dark memories laid beneath those blonde locks. 

“Want to start our apprenticeship tomorrow with a trip to a magic shop to get some supplies?” he asked. 

“Oo, a field trip,” you grinned. “You up for it?”

He flexed his fingers and then wrapped your legs around his waist, picking you up as you giggled. 

“I reckon,” he smirked.

“Alright then,” you smiled, kissing him gently before he whisked you off to the bedroom.

You got ready the next morning with Constantine, taking your time before venturing out into the world. The nice thing about being with a mage was that you could travel in faster, unconventional ways. Constantine conjured a portal, and even though he’d done it before, you were still in awe that you took a few steps and ended up a hundred miles away.

He’d teleported you into the magic shop by the looks of it. It didn’t seem like anyone was in there at first. It felt like a thrift store before it opened. Although nothing was dusty, it felt like it should have been. It didn’t seem like anything had moved in ages. Maybe this wasn’t a popular magic shop, or maybe you just go the vibe wrong. 

A man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and you jumped, though Constantine merely smiled. 

“Good morning, Mr. Constantine,” he greeted. His accent wasn’t as thick as Constantine’s, but it had a vaguely English feel to it. 

His hair reminded you of an old Hollywood vampire, and his clothes seemed to match that aesthetic.

“You’ve brought a friend I see,” he said, glancing at you. 

“This is my girl,” he smiled, giving your name. “Soulmate, if you can believe it,” he added, almost proudly. The man arched an eyebrow curiously.    
“You can call me Damien,” the man smiled at you. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said. “You have a lovely shop.”

He grinned, and it reminded you of a grandmother for some reason. 

“Let me show you around, darling,” he said. You got the feeling he was much older than he looked. He had that desperation of someone who needed to show you something special of theirs, and feed off the excitement of the newness of it to you.

Constantine gave you a smirk before turning and starting to collect things off the list he’d brought.

Damien had taken your arm in his and was parading you around the shop. 

“And these are some of our more collector items,” he said, after taking you around the shop for a while.

You glanced at a few of the objects until your eyes fell on a mirror. Nothing seemed odd about it, and Damien saw you trying to figure it out. 

“Does it bring you seven years of bad luck?” you asked. He chuckled softly as if he’d heard that before. 

“You’re not too far off, actually,” he said. “If broken, the perpetrator will lose five years of their memories.”

“What use is that?” you asked. 

“Oh many people wish to forget,” he answered absently, as if speaking from personal experience. 

“And what’s that?” you asked, pointing to a little box. 

“Ah, a music box that lets you persuade the listener to do your bidding.”

“Yikes,” you muttered. 

“Magic is like anything,” Damien shrugged. “It’s not the thing itself that is dangerous or cruel, but the wielder.”

“How long have you studied magic?” you asked. 

He grinned knowingly. 

“A lifetime and a half,” he answered. 

You opened your mouth to ask him another question, but your attention was swiftly pulled away as you heard a barrage of noise coming from the entrance. You swung your head in that direction and saw three hooded men storming the place. Damien swept you behind him, but you saw Constantine readying himself for battle. 

“Damien,” one of the hoods screamed. 

“Alright, mate,” Constantine said, his hands up. 

But the hooded man gave him no attention and swept his hand out, flinging Constantine with unseen force right past you.

You shielded your eyes from the breaking glass, and Damien pushed you behind a solid oak desk. From behind the desk you only saw flashes of light and movement. You heard grunts and screams and a few sounds of what you thought might be flesh being cut. You couldn’t see Constantine from where you hid, and it was killing you not to know if he was alright.

After a few more harsh bangs, the sounds stopped. 

“It’s alright, dear,” you heard Damien promise.

You found you couldn’t move until you saw his pristine shoes enter your field of view. He helped you up and you suddenly regained your wherewithal. 

You ran to Constantine. He was laying in broken glass, and you knelt down carefully to brush the stray shards off of him. He was groaning as he started to come to, and you helped him up slowly. 

“You okay?” you asked him. “Maybe we should see if you have a concussion or something.”

He blinked and stretched his face, looking around himself.

“I feel alright,” he shrugged.

Then he turned to you, as if just noticing there was a body attached to the voice he’d heard. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and he arched an eyebrow at you. 

“And who might you be, luv?” he asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few new chapters coming :) nothing crazy but a little angst and an little fun


	14. Chapter 14

“What?” you asked. “I’m (Y/N).”

You furrowed your brow, but only when you looked again at the glass did you realize what had happened. 

“Fuck me,” you muttered, realizing he’d just lost five years of memories.

“Buy me dinner first,” Constantine smirked. “Or don’t,” he added huskily. 

“Gods,” you muttered, pushing him away as he tried to press himself closer to you. 

“Sorry about that,” Damien muttered, pushing the limp leg of one of the assailants at his feet. “He seems to have broken that mirror we were just discussing.”

“Who were those people?” you asked. 

“When you live as long as I do, you acquire a plethora of enemies,” he said, signaling tactfully that it was none of your business. “Of course I will not charge you for the destruction,” he added.

You let out a sharp laugh.

“And you’ll fix his memory,” you ordered. 

He looked somewhat pained at this, but with your furthered stare, nodded solemnly. 

“I don’t know what you all are on about, but I feel like I need a pint,” Constantine said, rubbing his head. He took out a cigarette and lit it. 

“You shouldn’t drink after a head injury,” you answered absently. 

“What, you my nurse now?” he winked, blowing smoke after he said it. “I could play patient.”

You sighed heavily. You didn’t have time to think about him hitting on you, you needed to solve the problem that had just been created.

“Would you have been like this when we met?” you asked. “If you didn’t think I was going to kill you?” 

The question was more to yourself of course, but he looked at you strangely, like he almost remembered. 

“We’ve met?” he asked. “I assume at a pub I have long since been banned from.”

“How long is it going to take to fix this?” you asked Damien.

He shrugged. 

“Maybe a week? It’s not just gluing pieces back together, it’s interweaving memories back together. Can be a delicate process.”

“Fuck,” you muttered. 

“Wait, what?” Constantine asked.

“You’ve just lost five years of your memory by breaking that mirror,” you told him. He looked at the shards and frowned. “Can you get us back to the house?” you asked Constantine. 

“You know about the house?” he asked. “Who are you?”

“It’s a long story. But you can trust me,” you promised. 

Constantine cast a glance at Damien who nodded that he could.

“Can you get us there or not?” You asked. 

He frowned.

“If it’s been five years, then no. We change the portal locations every few months.”

You groaned. 

“Okay, well you still know Chas, right?” you asked. 

His face lit up and he nodded. 

“Best mate,” he said. 

“Good,” you sighed. “Take us to your and Chas’ clubhouse then.”

“Can do,” he smiled.

He didn’t seem too concerned that he’d lost five years of his life, and you wondered if this or something similar had happened to him before. Either way, he conjured the portal back into the bunker. You gave Damien your contact info and told him to keep you updated before stepping through the portal.

Once you were alone, Constantine seemed interested in you. But not in the way he had been. He wasn’t checking you out, rather he seemed to be trying to read your mind.

“So we know each other,” he said. 

“Yeah,” you answered, going to the freezer for the whiskey and pouring only yourself a glass. You got him some water.

You handed it to him and automatically clinked glasses before drinking. You knew this would be solved in about a week, but it was a strange feeling. It felt almost like a stranger sat next to you. His eyes were different. Heavier, like when you’d first met.

“So,” you sighed. “You want the full story?”   
He nodded, seemingly ready to listen. 

“Well,” you said, not knowing where else to start. “We’re soulmates.”

He laughed. It shook your attention away from your glass and you furrowed your brow. He was laughing. At the idea of you being his soulmate? Or the idea in general? Either way it was mildly offensive.

“Sorry, luv,” he caught his breath. “Are you sure you’ve got the right bloke?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m sure.”

“Me, a soulmate?” he mused. “You’re  _ sure _ ?” he asked again. 

“Yeah,” you repeated. 

You proceeded to tell him the entire story. You started with the magic show and ended with Swamp Thing and the Snow White demon. He listened intently, his demeanor changing as you told him details of your time together, the trust you’d built and the connection you strengthened. He was silent for a while after you’d finished. 

“And I’ve… said it?” he asked tentatively. The timbre of his voice was so unlike anything he’d said to you up till then.

“Said what?” you asked.

“That… I lo.. I love you?”

It was your turn to laugh. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “Many times. And you said it first.”

“First?” he asked. “Fuck me.”

“Also done that many times,” you chuckled. 

A silence settle between you. He seemed to be ruminating on this. 

“Is it so impossible?” you asked, unable to contain it any longer. 

“What?” he asked.

“That you would have me for a soulmate?”

His eyes softened and he looked at you with almost the same intensity you were used to. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and didn’t quite meet your gaze. 

“No, I mean… You’re exactly… You’re… You’re great,” he laughed. “I’m just…”

“A bastard?” you guessed. He nodded grimly. 

“At least you knew what you were getting into,” he shrugged with a half hearted smirk.

“You’ve told me many times that’s what you are, but I don’t see it that way,” you shrugged. 

He sighed and was quiet for a moment. 

“How’s Zatanna?” he asked. 

“She’s fine,” you smiled. “I wish I knew how to contact them, but you only just started teaching me some basic magic so…”

“I’m teaching you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “We decided it would be best if I was going to stay in this world with you.”

“And with all you’ve seen, you’re stilling wanting to do that?” he asked. You nodded.

He nodded absently and yawned. 

“I’d imagine you should get some rest,” you noted. 

“Mmm,” he murmured, getting up.

You rose automatically and started to follow him down the hallway before stalling. Should you sleep next to this man? He wasn’t really your Constantine, was he? He was five years before you met him, soaked with the blood of horrors you knew nothing about, freshly out of a relationship with Zatanna. 

“I’ll, erm, sleep out here,” you muttered, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear you. 

He turned, arching an eyebrow. 

“We don’t sleep together?” he asked. “I thought you said--”

“No we do,” you laughed nervously. 

He took a step towards you and laid his hands on your shoulders, sliding them gently down your arms. 

“You don’t want to sleep near me?” he asked. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’re different… You’re not mine yet.”

He nodded and licked his lips, clearly checking you out. It reminded you of when you’d first met, actually, but you said nothing about it.

“I cannot wait to be yours again,” he said, almost to himself. 

“If you don’t want to sleep together, I’ll sleep in Chas’ room,” he offered. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Sleeping next to him sounded innocent, but you were sure you’d get confused once the lights were off and you were alone with him. You knew it was the same person technically, but was he really? 

“Yeah,” you nodded finally. “I think for now we should… keep it, I don’t know… platonic.”

He still wasn’t hiding the way he looked at you, but he nodded as well. 

“Well, goodnight, luv,” he said, walking over to you. He placed his hands gently on your arms and leaned in to kiss your forehead. The touch felt so familiar, you almost forgot what was happening.

“Night,” you managed. You watched him walk down the hall, turning into your room as he turned into Chas’ next door. 

You couldn’t sleep, unsurprisingly. Damien had said he’d be able to fix it, but you weren’t sure. You didn’t know who he was or how powerful he was. You might never get your Constantine back, you realized. The thought made your stomach churn and you were ruminating on this thought until you heard a scream. 

Realizing it was Constantine, you sprang out of bed and flung open his door. He was alone, sitting up in bed, every muscle tensed. He was naked, and his chest was coated in sweat, his eyes wide with fright. 

You ran to him, and only at your touch did he startle and break whatever trance he’d been in. He looked at you as if for the first time, and you could tell it had taken him a minute to recognize you. 

“You okay?” you asked, your fingers unconsciously running through his hair. His posture relaxed a bit at your touch, but you could swear you heard his heart beating fast.

He looked at the sheets almost guiltily, only sparing fleeting glances at you.

“Yeah, luv, sorry to wake you.”

You settled onto the bed and waited for him to meet your gaze.

“What did you have a nightmare about?” you asked. 

He pressed his lips together in a fine line and shook his head. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, bit,” he promised. “Go back to bed. Or stay here if you like,” he managed a smirk.

You were unphased by this clearly defensive come-on and waited patiently. When you didn’t say anything, he looked at you. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’m waiting for you to tell me why you were screaming,” you answered. 

“Why?” he asked. 

The question took you by surprise. 

“What do you mean why?” you laughed. “Because I care.”

It took him a moment to register that you were serious. 

“Right, soulmates,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “Newcastle,” he said, meeting your gaze with immense guilt.

“Newcastle?” you asked. 

“I… haven’t told you…” he realized. “We’re soulmates and I haven’t told you?”

You felt a pang of disbelief and hurt. Whatever Newcastle was, it sounded important. Why hadn’t Constantine shared it with you?

“Nevermind, luv, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I am worried about it,” you promised. “What is Newcastle?”

He sighed and laid his head in his hands. 

“If he didn’t tell you, I’m not about to,” he said. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

“Well, I assume he knows you better than I do, and if he didn’t want to share that, well, he probably had good reason.”

“Or he was just a stupid bastard,” you half-joked. You waited for him to crack a smile, to agree with you and tell you about Newcastle, but he remained stone-faced. 

“I’m alright,” he promised with a patronizing pat on your leg. “Go back to sleep.”

You frowned, not understanding this. You knew this wasn’t your Constantine, but it felt strange to be pushed away like this.

“What is Newcastle?” you pressed. 

He shot a look at you that made you flinch. 

“I said it’s nothing,” he spat. “Just go, Jesus, I’m not a bloody abused dog, I don’t need you to treat me like one.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never said something like that to you before. You weren’t considering him to be like that, you just wanted to help, to make the nightmares go away.

“Fucking fine,” you laughed mirthlessly. “Have fun dreaming about your dark shit.”

You got up in a huff and slammed the door behind you. You went into the living room and laid down on the couch. If he screamed from down the hall, you couldn’t hear it in here. It was around four in the morning, and there was no way you were going to fall asleep, but you tried, and fell into a sort of half-sleep.

When you woke up fully, it was around seven, though it was hard to tell it was daytime at all in the subterranean house. You laid on your back on the couch looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t know what to make of last night. Whatever this nightmare-inducing Newcastle thing was, he had never told you about it. You’d been together months, you’d seen some of the worst of him, Snow White Demon and otherwise, why would he keep this from you?

Part of you wondered if whatever it was was so bad that you would leave him for it. But if you were soulmates, how would that be possible? You wished you could contact Zatanna or Deadman, but unless they checked in, you didn’t know how. Still, Constantine was pretty fresh out of a relationship with Zatanna in his mind, and you didn’t want to see him pining over her anyway.

Gods, how were you supposed to survive seven days like this? With this man who was either hitting on you or yelling at you. How would you even face him this morning?

Before you could twist your stomach into any more knots, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs from outside. Chas descended the stairs with a box, nodding at you in greeting before putting the box on the counter. 

“Hey,” you said. “I didn’t know how to reach you, sorry. We had a thing--”

“Yeah, Constantine called this morning, filled me in” he said. “Want a donut?” he asked, opening the box. 

You sighed and smiled, taking one. 

“What’s Newcastle?” you asked, nearly whispering. 

He arched a brow, but took a bite of his donut before answering.

“Why do you ask?”

“He woke up screaming last night and when I asked what it was about he said Newcastle. But when I asked him to explain what that meant, he basically told me to fuck off.”

That got you a sardonic smile from Chas, who nodded knowingly.    
“Sounds like the Constantine from five years ago,” he answered. 

“So what’s Newcastle?” you asked again. 

“Not my story to tell, darling,” Chas shook his head. “All I can say is some really bad shit went down, and it was John’s fault.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me about it?” you asked. “I mean before he lost his memory.”

Chas shrugged. 

“It’s the shittiest thing about him,” he said. “Probably thought he’d lose you over it.”

That probably made sense why this Constantine, who didn’t even know you, wouldn’t tell you.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this man until that mirror’s fixed,” you muttered. 

Chas frowned and thought for a moment. 

“If I remember right, John will just act like nothing happened. He’d rather die than have any kind of real talk.”

“I mean I guess that’s fine… this John doesn’t owe me anything. I just hope when  _ my _ John comes back…” you trailed off, too afraid that if you spoke your wish aloud it wouldn’t come true.

“John in any time of his life is a secretive, conniving, untrusting bastard,” Chas shrugged. “That kind of armor doesn’t get fully chipped away overnight. Be proud of what you had uncovered,” he added. “I’m sure it’s more than anyone else had seen until you.”

You shrugged, half listening. You were going to respond after a moment, but you heard rustling behind you as Constantine staggered into the kitchen. 

“Those donuts?” he asked, not even looking at you as he pushed you aside to get to the food. “Bloody starving,” he added. 

You sighed and stood back. You just had to wait it out, you reminded yourself. This strange version of the man you loved would be gone soon enough. He finally turned to you, his mouth full of donut.

“Alright, luv?” he asked.

There was no hint of remorse or conflict in his eyes. It was as if you’d never fought last night. 

You didn’t answer but watched him as he fumbled around the kitchen making coffee and finding various things to eat. He poured whiskey into his coffee when it was ready. You cast a glance at Chas who just shook his head as if to say,  _ Yeah, it was like that a lot back then. _

“Maybe you wanna slow down there, champ?” you suggested, as Constantine poured another shot into his coffee. 

He shot you an angry look, his eyes dark and challenging. 

“You sure you’re not my mum instead of my soulmate?” he cracked.

“I just think… It’s seven in the morning?” you suggested. “Maybe wait until noon?”

“I’m a bloody master of the dark arts, luv,” he scoffed, making his way preditorially over to you. 

You suddenly felt small in front of him. 

“The mere mention of my name sends demons running,” he grinned. “I could summon a portal to anywhere in any dimension. I could--”

You realized he’d backed you into a corner when Chas stuck out his arm and blocked Constantine from coming any closer. 

“We get it, Narcissus,” Chas rolled his eyes. Constantine looked up at him with equal disdain. You vaguely wondered if he’d had a drink before he came out here. “Go back to your room, eh? Give us a minute?”

Constantine chugged the rest of his coffee/whiskey, dropped the mug on the counter, and stormed off to his room. 

“Just lay low,” Chas yelled after him. 

When you were alone, you took a seat, feeling a little unwell. 

“I don’t know him at all,” you realized. 

Chas shook his head and took a seat next to him. 

“You know him,” he promised. “It’s just… A lot of shit went down for him a few years back. This Constantine… He’s raw, in a lot of pain. The version you got, I mean it’s not just a saying that time heals all wounds. Your Constantine had time to heal a little more. He had time to straighten out a little bit.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced. 

“Think of the person you were even two years ago. You’ve changed, haven’t you?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” you acknowledged.

“Just be patient,” he promised. “I’m sure when this all gets sorted out you guys will talk and figure it out.”

“Thanks, Chas,” you said.

And you meant it. You didn’t know this man that well, but here he was, helping you out, making you feel better about something he did not have a real personal stake in.

“Anytime,” he said. “Now, I have to go run some errands, why don’t you keep an eye on him? There’s some food in the fridge for lunch but I’ll pick us up something for dinner.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded, unsure of how to occupy your day. 

It was quiet once Chas left, and you tried to busy yourself with random things. The day passed slowly, and during that time, you realized how much you missed your Constantine. He was only a few rooms away, physically, but you knew he really wasn’t. 

When Chas finally came back that night with dinner, you knocked on Constantine’s door. 

“We got dinner if you want any,” you said. You waited. Nothing. “Fine,” you said, your patience thinner than you’d anticipated. If he wanted to be a child and ignore you, so be it.

“Guess he’s not interested,” Chas noted as you returned from the hallway alone. 

“Guess not,” you shrugged.

You sat down with Chas and ate dinner together, mostly in silence. Then he broke the silence with a question. 

“Wait, did you actually hear a response from him?” he asked. 

Your eyes narrowed. 

“No,” you admitted. “I thought he was just giving me the silent treatment.”   
Chas stood up abruptly and you followed him down the hall. He flung open the door to Constantine’s room, and you were surprised to find it empty. 

“We told him to lay low,” you said. 

“I should have known,” Chas rolled his eyes. 

“You know where he might be?” you asked. 

“Oh yeah,” he closed his eyes. “And you’re going to hate it.”


End file.
